


Last Necromancer

by Phantoms_Echo



Series: A History that Repeats -Au Collection [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Complete, Curse Breaking, Curses, Ed does something he shouldn't and gets in trouble, Ed is the younger brother and Al is older, Ed's a Necromancer, He doesn't like it, It'll make sense, Last chapter is poems and extra lore, M/M, Shinigami, Slowest burn possible, Technically character death but it's Al's soul trapped in an inanimate object, This wouldn't happen if he just listened to Al, does that count?, trust me - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-10-12 20:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17474309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantoms_Echo/pseuds/Phantoms_Echo
Summary: Ed didn’t expect today to be any different than the others when he woke up. He expected a normal not-good-not-bad average sort of day.Now he’s got a dead body on his hands, a brother in a bottle and a Shinigami on his heels.Normal indeed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its characters, only the idea for this fic.
> 
> It's been a literal two years since I've written here for this series. A year and a half since I wrote in this fandom at all. My expectations of reader count is low. This is not my best work. I understand all of this.
> 
> I am posting this because it has been in my head for two years and it *needs to get out* so I can use my brain for other things. I also don't like leaving series incomplete, so this is my way of saying 'Yes, I'm still working on it.'
> 
> I have another three segments for this series before it's over. I don't have a timeline on those yet, so don't hold you breath (it might be another two years).
> 
> Okay, now that the rant is out of the way, please enjoy.

“The three Statutes of Magic as defined by the High Council.”

“All is one. One is all. We live in a circle.”

“And?”

“Energy can be neither created nor destroyed, but kindness knows no bounds.”

“Last?”

“Should the soul be willing, happy be to you, but should it not, death shall follow your wake.”

“Good,” Al said as he turned the page in his book. “Now, what are the basic points of the Treatise of Magic according to the First Mages?”

“Magic should never be used on a soul unwilling. It should only be used for the greater good of the people, not for selfish reasons. Magic should never be mistaken for godhood. In order to use magic, words of meaning must be spoken in rhythm and the magic itself must be contained in a circle,” Ed recited, then grimaced. “Those with more magical power should not lord it over those without.”

“Good.” Al smiled at him, then turned the next page. “Now, let’s start with a basic crafting spell.”

Ed groaned as he splayed himself over the desk. “Brother, what’s the point of this? I’m never going to be as good as you!”

“Practice makes perfect, Ed,” Al said, snapped his book shut. “Once you get used to it, you’ll be able to do all kinds of things with magic!”

“If I were you, maybe,” Ed grumbled. “The way I am, I’ll be dead before I can do anything useful with what little Potential I have.”

Al frowned. “Ed, you don’t have little, you just…”

“Brother, you’re 108 years old, but only look fourteen.” Ed scowled at his brother. “I’m sixteen and _look_ sixteen. You know that means the amount of magical Potential I have is nearly nonexistent.”

Al’s brow furrowed in concern, but Ed knew he couldn’t argue against that fact.

It had been proven since the First Mages that the length of one’s life was directly related to their magical Potential. Those with high magical Potential lived long lives, sometimes spanning millennia like Al would. Others, like Ed, had such little Potential that he’d be lucky to make it past ninety.  It was just the way things were.

“Even those with the littlest Potential can have the biggest impact,” Al said as he set his book down on the desk a little more forcefully than he meant to. “And those with large Potential can pass life without changing a single thing. It all depends on how you use what you have.”

“Except I can’t even use what I _have_ because it would violate one of the Statutes of Magic!” Ed made a frustrated noise as he ran his fingers through his hair. “What being in the universe thought that an affinity with _Soul Magic_ would ever be a good thing to grant someone?!”

Al sighed and crossed his arms, done with his younger brother’s attitude. “You’ll find a use for it someday, Edward, when you least expect it.”

Ed scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Right.”

A knock sounded at the door, startling the brothers. Ed shot Al a look, but the other waved him off.

“It’s probably just a customer looking for some light spell-work,” Al said as he headed out of the study. He stopped in the doorway to point to Ed. “Work on your crafting while I get the door. I’ll call if I need you. Otherwise, if I get back and there’s not _some_ attempt at crafting, milk will be the only thing you’ll be able to drink for the rest of the week.”

Ed shuddered and ducked his head. He knew better than to get on Al’s bad side.

*             *             *             *             *

Al nodded to himself, seeing his younger brother get to work. Closing the door behind him, Al went through a mental list of the town’s people, trying to figure out who could be at his door. He’d filled the normal quota of charms this week, so it must be an emergency need. Someone got sick? Broke their leg? One of the animals got hurt in the field?

Al opened the door to a nice surprise. “Father!”

Hohenheim smiled gently from the doorway. His robes looked dusty, as if he had been traveling by foot rather than by stage coach, but for all Al knew, he might have been. When mages got as old as his father —873 years old —they got a bit eccentric.

“Please, come in, come in!” Al ushered his father inside and to the living room. “I wasn’t expecting anyone today, so I don’t even have _tea_ on, but if you’ll give me a minute, I’ll be right back—!”

“Dear Son, fret naught,” Hohenheim laughed.

Al laughed with him. “Sorry, it’s just… it’s been a long time, you know? I mean, relatively speaking. The last time you were here, you dropped off Ed and…”

His father’s smile waned, looking a little saddened.

Hohenheim had left Ed with Al fourteen years ago when Hohenheim’s second wife passed away, leaving him with a terrifying bundle of joy. Al had never been jealous of Hohenheim’s new family, as he had already grown up himself and he knew how much people needed to move on from loss.

He just… had never expected to be the one to raise his brother. After Hohenheim had dropped the two-year-old into Al’s hands, he’d disappeared across the desert with the rare letter inquiring about Al and Ed’s health.

He wasn’t a poor father, just an absent one.

“Don’t worry!” Al waved his hands emphatically. “Ed’s been really good. He’s starting to work on his magic, you know, getting the basics down. I think he has more potential than his age shows, but… we’ll have to see. He seems really good at thinking outside the box.”

Hohenheim’s smile brightened again as he opened his mouth to say something, but the teapot whistled at that moment. Al scrambled to his feet to get out teacups and tea bags and fix up the warm drink. He handed one off to his father and kept one for himself.

The man accepted the cup… with pale fingers that Al thought were strange. His father was much like his brother, both tan in complexion. Now that he looked, Hohenheim’s face was also paler than Al had ever seen. Was he sick?

“Your kindness shall not be forgotten in the flow of time,” Hohenheim said with a thankful smile. He took a moment to warm his fingers before he took a sip.

Al thought about his words, feeling that they were off.

Yes, his father often had strange ways of speaking, but those of the older generation typically did. Al was sure that it was based on some old culture that had grown and evolved over time as humans did. He brushed it off, but the ill feeling still sat low in his stomach.

“So how were the ruins of Xerxes?” Al asked, trying to remember what, exactly, his father had been searching for. As far as he knew, the land of Xerxes existed long before magic was known, but may have been the beginning of the Old Magic that required images instead of words. That was so long ago, now, that no one knows for sure.

Hohenheim swished the tea around in his cup, staring into is silently.

Al felt that ill-feeling grow. “Father?”

“ _What once was yours_ —” Hohenheim looked up, warm golden eyes turning sharp and cold “— _shall now be mine.”_

Al’s blood turned to ice.

A spell. His father was casting a spell.

On _Alphonse_.

Immediately, Al started a counter-spell. “ _For every-!”_

_“-atom belonging to me as good belongs to you,_ ” Hohenheim cut in.

No, he didn’t just interrupt, he _stole_ Al’s counter-spell, used is as a base in his own spell and changed the rhythm up entirely. That… that was _impossible_! It broke the laws of magic! It violated the Treatise of the First Mages! It-!

It was _unstoppable_.

_“I loafe and invite my soul to thee,”_ Hohenheim continued, eyes watching Al like prey as a bright circle formed around them.

Why was there a circle? Al knew that magic needed to be contained and circles were the perfect shape, not allowing any points to carry too much weight or not enough, but-!

There. A thin black line of ash encircled their chairs. That hadn’t been there this morning! Not when Al came from the study to open the door for his father! Not when they sat down to start to converse! Not when-!

The tea. When Al had left to get the tea, his father must have-!

_ “My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air…” _

Al’s heart gave a painful lurch. He doubled over, grasping at his chest as a choked noise crawled up his throat.

This was a Soul Spell, invoking dark and unwholesome matters to rip Al’s spirit from his body, invite another, but… _why_?!

Why was his father doing this!?

“F-Father!” Al called through the pain, through the fog that was his body. His limbs felt numb to him, unreachable, unusable. “Father, please! Sto-!”

“Brother?” Ed’s voice came from the study. “Brother, I’m picking up some weird en— _Brother_!”

_ “I, now four hundred-seven years old in perfect health again…” _

Alphonse _screamed_ as his soul ripped away from his body and he knew no more.

*             *             *             *             *

Ed watched in horror as his brother’s body fell to the ground, vacated of his spirit. The air whipped violently around the glowing circle that took up half the living room. The only other figure, Ed’s _bastard_ of a father stood over his brother, chanting words that Ed instinctively recognized.

A Soul Spell, to separate Al’s soul from his body and replace it with another, but _why_?!

Even if Hohenheim had never liked Ed, he’d always _adored_ Al! So why was he-?!

_ “Hoping to cease not till death.” _

Something separated from Hohenheim and hovered over Al’s body, the figure of a faded spirit.

Ed could do nothing but watch in horror. He knew Al wouldn’t have given up without a fight. If he couldn’t get a counter-spell in edge-wise, Ed wouldn’t stand a ghost of a chance.

_“And live until another soul stands in my wake.”_ The spell finished in Al’s voice and drove a spike of ice down Ed’s spine. That spell style… it wasn’t Al’s or his father’s. It was something else entirely! It was-!

“Oh, _yes_ ,” Not-Al moaned, dragging a hand down his neck to his chest. “I’m going to _love_ this body! So much _Potential_!”

“Who _are_ you?” Ed demanded fearfully. “What did you do to Brother?!”

Not-Al looked over to him, a disinterested expression. Then he grinned, eyes wide and teeth bared. Ed flinched back instinctively. Those eyes… those eyes had not only seen death, they had _invoked it_.

They were the eyes of a _murderer_.

“I think the correct question is: What will _you_ do to your brother?” Not-Al laughed… and laughed and _laughed_ as Ed’s eyes shot over to the pale shadow that was his brother’s _soul_ still trapped in the circle, clinging unconsciously to this world until his body left the ring.

“I wonder,” Not-Al said as he back-stepped to the edge of the ash circle. “Do you know Soul Magic? Enough to save that pitiful wisp?”

Then he stepped out.

Ed cursed as the circle flashed and started to close in on itself. Al’s soul pushed further and further away from his body, slowly turning more and more transparent. Within minutes, he would lose his older brother entirely!

He couldn’t let that happen.

Looking around wildly, Ed snatched up an empty potion’s bottle and threw himself into the ring.

For not the first time, he cursed his Casting Time for being so long.

_“Halt wandering Spirit, leave not this world,”_ Ed started. _“Resist the call for you beyond the veil.”_

The circle slowed, as if Ed’s magic was starting to draw its attention.

“ _Take refuge from the body you were hurled_.” Ed uncapped the bottle with shaking hands. “ _Remember the line which your magic hails.”_

The circle stopped but did not gain on its previous size. Ed felt sweat drip down his temple.

_“Blame not your father for betraying you.”_ Ed held out the bottle, ignoring the way his fingers tingled at the use of his magic. _“Abandon not your Brother to the field.”_

The circle flared and started to draw in again, but this time towards Ed. Al’s soul was pushed by the ever receding boundary.

_“Demand the stranger pay his debt and dues.”_ Ed felt the skin on his right wrist begin to burn with the magic. _“Persecute him until, to you, he yields.”_

The circle clenched tighter, magic welling up around it in a wall of sheer _light_. Ed could just make out his brother’s face from the blinding brightness.

_“Entrust to me your will and soul this night.”_ Ed trembled against the force pressing in all around him. It felt like the very air was fleeing the circle’s hold. _“So that the living be you rather than he.”_

Ed’s very limbs trembled like they wished to fall, but he stubbornly refused to submit to the magic at hand.

_“So we may slay him with our combin’d might.”_ Ed winced at the slurred word, but his syllables had to be perfect, because his magic certainly was not. _“Soul without body, I swear this to thee.”_

The circle pulsed as Al’s soul swirled like mist around the lip of the flask. Ed held steady as he spoke the final words of the spell.

_“I, your Brother, shall be your hands and feet.”_ Ed deftly pushed the cork back into the flask just as the rest of Al’s soul trickled inside. _“Until this stranger we have thusly beat.”_

Ed let out a sigh of relief —only to have the air leave his lungs in a choked cry. Pain seared at the hand that held his brother’s soul. It burned at his wrist like a brand, cells crying in anguish. Ed doubled over, lips open in a silent scream. He stumbled, left foot ending up outside the circle and igniting another flame on his skin.

His entire body seized, brain unable to comprehend the backlash from the spell. His lungs caved in, unable to get any air through his throat. His vision swam as his house tilted to the side.

But his ears worked just fine.

“Oh, you caught your brother’s soul. Good for you,” Not-Al said, voice a mockery of his normal praise. “How does the Curse feel?”

Ed dropped to his knees, incapable of standing.

“Yeah, painful, right? I remember it well.” Not-Al put his hands in his pockets. “There are few perks though.”

Ed couldn’t keep himself from curling up around his burning limbs and the flask that contained his brother’s soul. He couldn’t lose him now.

“Sadly, I don’t think you’ll be able to make much use of them.” Not-Al crouched in front of Ed, chin resting in hands. “Magic Potential like yours, I would be surprised if you lasted a week.”

Ed wanted to curse him, spew profanities to his face, punch that victorious smirk.

Instead, the black took over to Not-Al’s parting words.

“See you later, kid.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or its characters, only the idea for this fanfic.
> 
> PS - Also forgot to say: Planning on weekly updates. I'm aiming for Friday or Saturday, but life happens. If I don't make a weekend, I'll post as early as I can on the Monday after

The Shinigami had heard the cry of the soul as it tore itself from its body. He heard its call across the field and sands. He heard it suddenly cut off.

Souls did not stop calling, not without reason.

Someone had done the Unforgivable.

The Shinigami found himself at a country home, two stories and a tree swing to the left. It was as close as he could pinpoint the cry’s origin. Phasing through the door, he met a horrifying scene.

Two bodies on the ground, circled by a line of ash. They both breathed, but one was close to his time. The area stank of Soul Magic, one —no, _two_ spells worth.

Close as he was, the Shinigami could feel the third soul in the room where there should only be two.

Treading lightly, he cast a glance around the room before spying the Soul Glow from amidst the child’s curled arms. Don’t tell him that one so young had…?

Shaking his head in disgust, the Shinigami knelt and reached for the flask that muffled the soul’s lonely cry. The soul flashed once at him.

A hand latched onto his wrist in a bruising grip.

“You stay _the hell_ away from my brother!” A wearily but biting voice snarled out.

Not for the first time, the Shinigami looked up to find himself staring into fiery golden eyes.

*             *             *             *             *

Ed shoved the stranger away and scrambled back, ignoring the way his arm and leg cried in protest. He kept the flask clutched tightly to his chest, unwilling to let the Shinigami even _see_ Al’s soul.

Because that’s what he was: a Shinigami.

A god of death and the departed towered over him with a black cloak that swirled like mist and blood-red eyes that burned to his very core. Ed wondered if the god was corporal enough for him to fight and thought the two scars on his face were proof he was, but Ed didn’t have long to find out.

“Accursed Being,” the Shinigami addressed him. The Spirit held out a hand. “Give me the soul you wrenched from its rightful tomb.”

“I didn’t _wrench_ him from anywhere!” Ed spat out. “It was _him_! The one that stole Brother’s body! He—!”

_“Ed?”_

“Brother!” Ed curled around the flask.

_“Ed, what’s going on?”_ His brother sounded dazed. _“I feel… weird.”_

“I…” Ed’s lip trembled as the severity of what he’d just done fell upon his shoulders. “I—!”

“Your _brother_ has trifled with the Laws of the World,” the Shinigami said as he stooped to peer into the glass. Ed clutched it closer, keeping his brother’s soul from view. “He captured an unwilling soul with intent to keep it trapped. As a Shinigami, it is my duty to release it.”

_“...You’re talking about me_ ,” Al stated. “ _Ed wasn’t the one that started it!”_

“Yeah!” Ed added. “Like I said! It was that _guy_! The one who was here!”

“It matters not who started the ritual.” The Shinigami stood. “All that matters is the intent.”

“But that’s not _fair_ —!”

“You were Cursed for your transgressions.” The Shinigami bared a scythe to Ed’s face. Ed swallowed thickly as he caught sight of his own reflection. “Release the soul so that I may do my duty and reap.”

“If you want Brother,” Ed started, “you’ll have to pry him out of my _cold, dead hands_!”

“The Curse will kill you in a matter of days,” the Shinigami said, winding his scythe back for a swing. “I see no reason to wait.”

Ed gasped and brought up an arm to cover his face.

“Stop!”

The Shinigami froze. Ed’s eyes widened in shock. He looked to the other body in the room. “Dad?”

“Ed…” the man rasped as he struggled to push himself from his prone position. He failed and fell back. “Please, god of death, it was not my son’s fault. Neither of them.”

_“Father!”_

“Dad!”

“I was the one to bring the demon into my home,” Hohenheim confessed. “I was the one who could not quell his thirst for blood any longer.”

“Dad, what are you…?” Ed stopped, words dying on his lips as he took in his father’s form. Black markings crawled up his father’s forearms and what he could see of his ankles, up and up to a near perfect circle around his neck. Curse Marks, that singled out those who had practiced Soul Magic on the unwilling.

Marks that now decorated Ed’s own wrist and ankle. His left hand tightened around his right.

“That man had been in the same town as I fourteen years ago,” Hohenheim said. “He had been looking for a new host and found one… but not before he’d killed half the people in town first.”

_“Father… you were…?”_

“No,” Hohenheim weakly shook his head. “Not I, but Ed’s mother.”

Ed startled. This was news to him.

“He had his eyes set on her for more wicked reasons than I could ever count.” Hohenheim sighed, mournful. “I couldn’t stop him from starting the ritual, but… I could keep him from tarnishing her further.”

_“Father…”_

“I did what Ed did, offered a replacement vessel,” Hohenheim said. “I thought I could keep him bottled up until my time came. I thought I could stave him off long enough to drag him with me to the afterlife.”

Hohenheim let out a bitter sob. “Instead, I afflicted my children with my curse.”

“ _Father, no—!”_

“Dad…”

“And now the Curse afflicts me. I have not much time left, but Shinigami…” Hohenheim turned a beseeching gaze onto the spirit. “I beg you, allow my son the chance to set things right… where I could not.”

The Shinigami remained silent, but Hohenheim seemed to take that as answer enough.

“Edward,” he called then, voice weary with the toll his body had taken. “If you are to hunt down that man, you must know: he is nothing but a beast. He hurts and he takes and he _lives_ for the pain of others. If you are to find and capture him, you must never forget: a beast follows the trail of bloody prey.”

_Follows a trail of…?_ “How is that supposed to—?!”

He didn’t get to finish his question as the circle around his father’s neck completed itself and the noose was hung. Ed squinted as a pale golden light shrouded his father’s body and an incorporeal form rose up.

“ _Father, please_!” Al begged. “ _Don’t go_!”

“ _Cry not, son_.” Hohenheim smiled at the flask. “ _I am to meet with an old friend_.”

Then the Shinigami swiped below his feet with his scythe and snapped his hold to his flesh. Hohenheim disappeared in a _whoosh_.

Ed was left to stare down the Shinigami, eyes blazing.

“Give me one week,” Ed demanded. “Give me until my Curse claims me as well. If I fix my mistake, you let me and my brother go free.”

“If not?” the Shinigami asked, red eyes dull even after witnessing death.

Ed glared on silently. “If I haven’t righted my wrong, I’ll release Brother’s soul to you and you can claim mine as well.”

The Shinigami stared for a moment before waving away his scythe. “Very well, but I will accompany you. Do not think you can out-run death.”

Ed swallowed around the lump in his throat, but nodded anyway.

*             *             *             *             *

“Apprentice Roy Mustang,” the Council addressed the man in the middle of the circular room. “You have been granted your first Star on account of your magical abilities and research into the domain of Flame Magic.”

Roy kept a straight face, but he was dancing in victory on the inside. So much hard work, so many sleepless nights. Finally, some recognition.

“With your rank, we also bestow upon you your first task.” The Speaker of the Council accepted a scroll from an attendant.

Roy frowned. That was… unusual. Not unheard of, but the Council usually allowed a period of settlement so that he understood what was at his disposal for his new rank.

“This task is of the utmost importance and the utmost secrecy,” the Speaker continued as he rolled out the scroll. “The Seer felt a powerful wave this morning, born from use of Soul Magic.”

Roy inhaled sharply. What _idiot_ cast that spell? Everyone knew Soul Magic was forbidden!

“You are to locate the individual behind the event and ascertain their threat level and life expectancy,” the Speaker ordered. “Should the matter come to such a point, you are allowed to use lethal force to apprehend or _end_ them.”

Roy swallowed at the order. Soul Magic was bad, but killing outright wasn’t much better.

“Do I make myself clear, First Star Mustang?” the Speaker asked.

Roy clapped his hands in front of him and bowed. Straightening up, he nodded. “Crystal.”

The Speaker dipped his head and rolled the scroll back up. He held it out to Roy, then gestured for the next matter to attend to. Silently, Roy flew from the Council room, thoughts already whirling on how to find, observe, and-or capture the spell-caster who had thought to make themselves the judger of death.

His first stop would be to the Seer, to check if the spell-caster had moved locations. If so, a general direction would be a good start. He might check in with Gracia too, to see if she could Scry for him if need be. Ah, but to do that, he would need an item from the spell-caster. Perhaps he should find the origin of the spell? Maybe they left something behind…

So lost in his thoughts was he, that Roy missed his friend’s arrival.

“Roy! My little magic general!” Maes slung an arm around Roy’s shoulders to draw him into a noogie. Roy struggled, but to no avail. The man had a foot in height and 20 physical years on him. Without his magic, Roy didn’t stand a chance.

And to think, only 15 years ago, Roy had been taller than him.

“Stop that, Maes!” Roy grumbled, finally shoving his friend off. He huffed and went about fixing his uniform and hair. “Honestly, sometimes I wonder who the child is between us.”

“Well, you’re 63 in a 16-year-old’s body.” Maes beamed. “And I’m 35 in a 35-year-old’s body. I think the answer is pretty clear.”

Roy scoffed.

“So what’s the deal?” Maes asked, falling into step beside Roy. “You went in for a Star and came out with a scowl. Did they decide against it?”

“No.” Roy shook his head. “They just decided to give me my first mission at the same time.”

“Really? No time for celebrations? Ouch.” Maes winced. “So what’s your goal?”

“You know missions from the Council are top secret.” Roy looked at him out of the corner of his eye. Maes grinned.

“You also know that I can’t give you any information if I don’t know what I’m looking for.” Maes crossed his arms behind his head and rested his head back. “So?”

Roy rolled his eyes, but opened the scroll. It was written in a magicked language, so no one other than Roy wouldn’t be able to read it, but that didn’t keep him from reading aloud. “Magic user, down in Risembool, used some dark magic —a lot of it. It’s got the same feel as a trail of bodies left behind roughly fourteen years ago.”

“Are you talking about the Crimson Mage?” Maes’ eyes went wide as his arms came down in surprise. “He’s still _alive_?! I thought for _sure_ the Curse would have taken him by now!”

“Him or a copycat. Neither sounds good though.” Roy rolled the scroll back up. “I’m heading over to take a look, see if I can’t pick up some clues. He most likely left the scene, but it wouldn’t hurt to check.”

“Roy.” Maes placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping them in place. “Promise me you’ll be careful. That mage… he’s known for attacking powerful wizards. I don’t want to hear that you went missing, only to turn up dead. Promise me, if he shows up, that you’ll get out of there.”

“You worry too much.” Roy scoffed as he patted Maes’ hand and brushed him off. “Besides, like I said, it could just be a copycat or perhaps even a mistake. I won’t know until I see.”

“Well, the moment you know more, ring me up.” Maes crossed his arms. “I’ll do some digging to see if I can’t figure out where he’s going next. If it really is him and not some copycat, I might be able to track a trend from his previous targets.”

“Will do.” Roy smiled. “I’m off to the Way Station now.”

“Without Hawkeye?” Maes gasped. “She won’t be happy to hear that.”

“It’s just a quick trip!” Roy defended. “And I’m 63! I can take care of myself!”

“In mind, maybe. In looks, you don’t seem a day over 17.” Maes held a hand to Roy’s head, measuring him against Maes’ shoulders. “Ah, the delights of Magic Potential.”

“Stop that!” Roy huffed, batting at his hand. “You’re just jealous.”

“Not so much.” Maes laughed. “If I had as much potential as you, I wouldn’t be able to live a full life with my darling Gracia!”

“No. Nope! Not starting this again!” Roy covered his ears. “If you want to play house, go ahead! I’m going to the Way Station and getting the first teleporter out of here.”

“Be safe, Roy!” Maes called after him. “I mean it!”

Roy waved to show he’d heard him and continued off. He hoped Maes’ warnings would be for nothing, but Maes had an unusual affinity for situations like these —bordering on the arcane gift of clairvoyance. Sometimes, they were for good reason. Other times, it was just Maes’ overprotective nature.

Stomach twisting, Roy hoped this was a case of the later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Roy has now entered the picture.
> 
> Does anyone know who the Shinigami is? :) I think I made it pretty obvious.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or its characters, only the idea for this fic.
> 
> PS - And the two story lines merge into one!
> 
> Little bit earlier in the day, but I've got another story to beta tonight, so I figured you wouldn't mind.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do anything,” Winry said quietly as she stared at the black lines crawling up Ed’s forearms. They had started thin at his wrist, almost like a bracelet, but they had already widened to the thickness of a finger. Ed could almost make out a letter of the Old Language from which they were first cast. The First Mages really knew their stuff, to enact a failsafe against Soul Magic, even after thousands of years after their death.

“I’m sorry,” Winry said again, eyes growing wet. Ed patted the little girl’s head; little but still fifty years older than him.

“It’s okay,” Ed comforted her. “I wasn’t sure you could. No one can undo the Curse, but I’d thought: if anyone could do it, it’d be Winry Rockbell, best curse-breaker in Amestria!”

Winry gave a wet laugh.

Ed let his smile drop. “But you can tell me how long I have left right?”

“A week,” Winry answered immediately, face growing sad again. “The man wasn’t lying. He knows his stuff. And you said he wasn’t a curse-breaker?”

“I didn’t feel it on him,” Ed confirmed, “but then, I didn’t feel him _at all_ when he’d been trapped inside Dad.”

“The only way he could have known then…”

Ed nodded. “Was to have gone through the process himself. Maybe even more than once.”

Winry made a sad noise and turned to her grandmother. Pinako sucked on her pipe and let out a gusty sigh. “I’ll take a look at the old town records. Newspapers from all over ought to have information, no matter how small. I’ll send you what I can find.”

“I’ll check in when I can,” Ed promised as he tugged on his traveling cloak and picked up his bag. Al’s flask was holstered tightly to his belt.

“Stay out of trouble,” Pinako warned him as he opened the door.

Ed laughed. “Don’t I always?”

He’d barely made it down the stairs when Winry yelled after him. “Don’t use your magic!”

Ed looked back at her.

“It’ll make the Curse spread faster,” Winry explained. Her hands tightened on the doorknob. “So just… _don’t_.”

Ed frowned before turning to her fully. “I’ll come back Winry. Both Brother and I, we’ll come back.”

Winry sniffled as tears trickled down her cheeks. “It’s a promise!”

Ed smiled and turned away to walk down the dirt path.

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” the Shinigami said from his right.

Ed scowled at the dark floating mass before turning his eyes back on the road. “Then I guess, I’ll just have to make sure I keep it.”

*           *           *           *           *

The scent of the necromancer was thick on the country town. It was more of a village than town, even in this day and age, but that didn’t stop the necromancer’s magic from leaving a trail from the Way Station all the way to a small curse-breaker’s shop. Roy paused outside of it before deciding to follow the trail back to the end. He’d be able to come back and start his questioning if the trail was a dead lead.

It was, in the most literal sense.

The trail led back to a seemingly innocuous house — two stories, tire swing on the tree in the front yard, front door handing open. Whoever had been here had left in a hurry and Roy could see why.

The body lay sprawled on the ground, surrounded by the remains of a magic circle. The hands and feet had obvious Curse marks and his neck… Roy knelt to pull back the shirt collar the slightest bit. Yeah, full circle; the Curse was complete.

Now the question was, who was this man? He didn’t appear to live in the house. All of the pictures were of two brothers, though Roy couldn’t tell who was the elder. The two looked so similar, it was nigh impossible to tell them apart in the photos, were it not for the length of one’s hair.

Could this man be the necromancer? But… no, he shared a family resemblance to the two brothers. Perhaps he was the father? If so, who was the necromancer then—?

A gasp in the doorway made him whirl around, middle finger and thumb in a tight circle. A young girl stood in the doorway, blue eyes wide with fear, but Roy didn’t let her apparent age fool him. The Magic Potential he could sense from her put her at least 50 years his senior, if not more. In his assessment, his eyes strayed to the shovel in her hands. He narrowed his eyes.

“Are you here to dispose of the evidence?” he demanded. “Do you know who is behind this?”

The girl’s mouth worked a few times before an older woman pushed past. The woman was old and wrinkled, but she was centuries older still. In her prime, Roy might have feared her. Now, her presence merely commanded his attention.

“We are only here to give the deceased a proper burial,” the old woman replied. “As anybody deserves.”

“This body is a product of the illegal use of Soul Magic. By attempting to bury it, you are obstructing justice and the due right of the Council to pass their judgement,” Roy replied by rote. “And you have not answered my second question. Think I would not notice?”

The old lad’s lips pursed. The girl at her side —granddaughter? Apprentice? —shuffled awkwardly, the shovel her stiff dance partner. The woman sighed and cast a sad look at the body. “Oh, Hohenheim, you old fool. Look at the trouble you’ve caused.”

Roy frowned. “You know this man?”

“For longer than you have been alive,” she said. “He was a brilliant Mage, Magic Potential far greater than mine. He had been alive a long time before me and I had suspected that he would be alive long after I left this world.”

“Obviously not,” he said, casting a glance at the body behind him. “Do you know how this came to be?”

The woman stared at him, eyes hard. He could tell with a look that she was choosing her next words carefully. He fingered at a Truth spell in his pocket, waiting for the stone to grow hot in the presence of a lie.

Finally, she spoke. “Hohenheim kept in touch with me through letters over the years. I often heard of strange lands in the West and North because of him. He brought souvenirs when he returned to visit his son and I often ended up with left overs. One time… he returned with more.”

Her gaze drifted to the man again, his face pale in death. “He returned with a child by a woman who was his second wife… and the Curse mark on his right arm.”

Roy sucked in a breath. “This man was a necromancer?! One as powerful as you’ve said, the Council would have known—!”

“He was no necromancer.” The woman shook her head. “He was a Mage of many talents, with hair of gold and eyes of liquid sunshine. There were no other like him before his sons.”

“You’re trying to tell me…” Roy’s eyes widened in shock. “He was of the line of Scholars?!”

Even as he said it, he cast his mind back for evidence. The brothers in those pictures, their golden hair could be explained by Amestria’s own gene pool, but their eyes… He had thought they were brown, but could it be…? Could they be…?

The woman replied with silence. Roy narrowed his eyes in thought.

The Truth spell in his pocket remained cool to the touch, but that didn’t mean everything. If a person truly believed that what they said was truth, it wouldn’t work for them. Despite its name, it could only point out intentional lies. Everything else had to be weeded out by common sense.

“Let’s say I believe you and this man truly _is_ of the line of Scholars?” Roy said slowly. “One would think a Mage of his caliber would think twice about attempting illegal magic.”

“I never heard the full story,” the woman said. “But he returned with the Curse on his skin and a demon in his flesh. After dropping off his youngest with his eldest, he disappeared again. For good, or so I thought.”

“You didn’t know of his stop here?” Roy pressed.

“Not until…” the young girl started, but cut off at a glare from the woman.

“Until what?” Roy asked. When no answer came forth, he demanded it. “Until what?”

The girl looked to the woman, then hung her head. The woman kept her chin high, refusing to answer. Roy’s face darkened and he set his eyes on the girl.

“You’re the curse-breaker down the road, right?” Roy guessed. He took the girl’s flinch as a ‘yes’. “You realize that I can have your license revoked for interfering with an investigation. If you refuse to answer…”

The girl flashed a worried look at the older woman. Getting a license revoked was no laughing matter. One couldn’t practice professional magic without it and to have one revoked was a black mar not many could escape. Only the truly desperate went to Mages and Witches with a revocation in their history.

It would ruin this girl for the rest of her life and they knew it.

“One of the brothers came to us in need of help,” the woman explained slowly like it pained her. “The demon, the one Hohenheim had trapped under his skin, had gotten free. He’d stolen the other brother’s body and run off before he could be stopped.”

The Truth Spell stayed cold.

“So we have the son of a Scholar running around with a demon in him?” Roy looked between the two of them. “What of the other brother?”

“Ed, he…” the young lady started, grip on her shovel tightening. “He went after the demon to stop him.”

The Truth Spell grew warm, but not hot. A half-lie.

“That’s not the whole truth,” Roy said, eyes narrowing further. “What have you not told me?”

The two women shared a look before the older answered. “Ed… he’s going to get his brother’s body back.”

Roy’s heart nearly stopped. “ _What_?”

“Edward,” the young girl started again. “He went after the demon to get his brother’s body back! Then Alphonse can—!”

“He can’t.” Roy shook his head. “It’s impossible! No one can reclaim a soul from the other side, not even the most skilled Necromancer! The only way to reclaim a body would be to-!”

He cut himself off, staring at the sorrowful faces of the two women. “No…”

The young girl cast her eyes down as the elder straightened her shoulders.

“He had already trapped his brother’s soul,” Roy guessed, to a cringe from the young girl. “He told you of his plans to reclaim the body —to pursue another act of _Soul Magic_ —and you _let him go_?!”

“Alphonse Elric has been a blessing to our community,” the old woman said, voice thick like gravel. “His father was my closest friend. It is only right that we allow Edward the chance to save him, to defeat the demon his father unleashed, before the Curse strikes him down.”

The Truth Spell went cold.

Roy was _furious_.

“I hope you know that this is considered an act against the Council of Mages,” Roy stated coldly. It was by force of will alone that he was able to keep from casting a Fire Spell right there and then. “I will be filing this grievance with the High Command. You will receive a letter promptly for your hearing and judgement.”

The young girl’s shoulders came up as if to defend herself, but the older woman didn’t even flinch. She knew what she had been getting into from the very beginning. It only made her decision burn against Roy’s conscience all the more.

“If you two will excuse me…” he said through his teeth. Silently, the women parted to one side, allowing him to storm out of the house. He knew they would bury the body somewhere, but a quick track on the dust circle left behind should trail back to the magicked death, should they need the evidence for the necromancer’s hearing —as well as the women’s own.

Taking a deep breath, he stilled the anger within him, holding it back for its rightful target. When he was sure he had himself in hand, he reached into his pocket for his portable phone and Maes’ call stone.

Slotting the marble into the divot on the side, he waited for his friend to answer.

*             *             *             *             *

Maes felt his pocket grow hot and tingly, a sure sign of Roy’s call stone flaring to life. It seemed like the Mage had some information for him. After so little time, Maes was worried at what his friend had found.

“I’ve got a description,” Roy stated after Maes’ greeting.

Maes stopped in the middle of the road, blood going cold before he snapped himself out of it. Drawing a pen and booklet out of his pocket, Maes pressed. “Go ahead.”

“Young looking. No pictures over the physical age of sixteen. Blonde hair, gold eyes, tan skin.” Roy listed off. The description caught Maes’ attention.

“Gold eyes?” he asked. “One from the line of Scholars? _He_ did it?”

“He was at the scene,” Roy replied. “How much of a hand he had in it, I don’t know yet. His brother is also missing, but their father…”

“Roy?” Maes pressed the phone to his ear.

“His body was left on the living room floor,” Roy recited blandly. “Black brands up and down his arms and legs —marks of The Curse.”

“And you’re sure?” Maes asked, to an answer of dead air. “You, you know that this follows the old patterns of the Crimson Mage.”

“I know,” Roy sighed, static crackling to life. “I’ll have to tell the Council and try to figure out where he’ll strike next. Eye witnesses said he left town pretty quickly, but the _where_ is another matter entirely.”

“Where else would he go?” Maes said, expression grim. “Anyone going anywhere has to go through Central. Heading this way will, 9-to-1, put you closer to where he’ll spring up next.”

“It’s as good a plan as any,” Roy sighed again. “Extra traveling means I’ll have to tell Hawkeye. And right when I’d gotten away from her!”

“Hey,” Maes warned. “Now is not the time to play childish games, Roy.”

“I know, I know,” Roy grumbled. “Be safe, Hughes.”

“You too, Roy,” Maes said, tucking his booklet with info away. When the call ended, he put his phone away as well. Raking a hand through his hair, he wondered at his poor fortune as he finished his walk home. There, he unlocked the door, stepping inside to shed his coat and call out. “Gracia, honey! I’m home!”

“I’m in the office!” she called back. Office, meaning the place she did Scrying out of and, subsequently, helped clients in. This meant that she had someone else in with her at the moment and was trying to find a lost item or person. Knowing this, Maes wasn’t surprised when he turned the corner and saw a second person in with her.

What _did_ surprised him, was the color of the person’s hair.

Golden blonde tresses flowed back into a loose, bedraggled braid. Gold bangs fell across tan skin and, when the customer turned, half-concealed a pair of vibrant gold eyes.

Maes saw red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, starting to shape up the misunderstanding tag.
> 
> I really made Roy a jerk, didn't I? I don't know why, but I couldn't write that scene any other way. I'll try to smooth his character out as we go along.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or its characters, only the idea for this fic.
> 
> PS - Long chapter this time, but I don't think you guys will mind.
> 
> Also, congrats to Teribird for guessing the Shinigami's identity! :) He is Scar.

Ed didn’t know how he knew, but the Scryess’ husband _knew_. He knew what Ed had done. He knew what Ed was running from.

More importantly, his wife knew what Ed was running _to_.

“What are you doing here?!” the man demanded, green eyes bright, anger just barely contained.

Ed looked from him to the woman who watched with wide, confused eyes. He looked from her to the Scry gem on the map between them. North-West, towards the mountains. Circling more and more Northward.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” the Scryess asked, remaining in her seat due to her large belly.

“Get away from her!” the man demanded.

Ed made his choice.

With a heave, he upended the Scryess’ desk into the man’s path. The woman let out a gasp, a choked off scream as Ed ripped back the fabric that he’d given her —one of Al’s scarves. Before the man could recover, Ed was out the door and fleeing to the Way Station like the Hounds of Hell were on his tail.

*             *             *             *             *

“Roy! You better get your ass back here!” Maes demanded into his phone. His hands fluttered uselessly over his wife. His wife, who was brushing him off with ‘ _I’m fine_ ’s and ‘ _what was that about_?’

“Why? What happened?” Roy asked, tone serious.

“The mission you’re working on? It think I just found him,” Maes said, looking out the front door, but the kid was long gone. “He was in my _home_ , Roy!”

“... I’ll be there soon. I’ll call Hawkeye to run interference.” With that, Roy hung up. Letting out a shaky breath, Maes closed the door and turned back.

“What’s going on?” Gracia asked, still a little pale and shaky, but not nearly as much as Maes. “Did that boy do something wrong?”

“We have a reason to believe that _that boy_ —” Maes’ eyes turned hard “—has committed an act of Soul Magic and started up the acts of the Crimson Mage after 14 years of latency.”

*             *             *             *             *

“We’re heading west,” Ed panted as he streaked through the streets. The Shinigami kept pace easily with him as he wasn’t bound by the laws of physics. “That’s where the Scry gem stopped —a town called Rush Valley. That’s where that bastard is, but not for long. We have to hur—!”

_“Edward? What’s going on?”_

Ed nearly tripped over his own feet. Ducking into an alley, he looked back for signs of followers, but he saw none. Sighing in relief, his hands fumbled into his bag, shaking as they carefully unearthed the flask that held his brother’s soul, hidden there when his belt proved to be too visible. “Brother, I can’t really talk right now...”

 _“Edward, what happened to the Scryess?”_ Al’s voice carried from the glass, echoing slightly through the substance. _“I heard a big crash! Why are you running?”_

“The Scryess’ husband came back. He… recognized me.” Ed looked back over his shoulder, checking that the coast was still clear. “We need to get to the Way Station before someone gives chase. It doesn’t look like he’s followed me, but I’d better be safe than sorry.”

“ _Recognized you?”_ Al made a noise of concern. _“Ed, it’s only been a couple of hours! I would have thought the Council would have just now sent an investigator! You have to be careful!”_

“I will!” Ed huffed at the glass, annoyed. “I’m not _that_ stupid!”

_“You aren’t stu-!”_

“Just leave it to me,” Ed said, a cocky grin on his lips. “I’ll get us—!”

“Behind you,” the Shinigami warned a split second before—

_ “Fire!” _

A bolt of magic tore through where Ed had been standing. Cursing, Ed buried Al away, ignoring the muffled protests from the flask. Crouched low, he checked over his opponent to see what he was dealing with.

Physically, she was an adult with long blonde hair tied up in a tight bun. Her brown eyes were sharp and blank, no emotions as she readied another shot with her be-spelled pistol. Ed was fast, but he couldn’t outrun magic bullets, not for long.

Ed crouched lower, mind working overtime to find an escape. His hand snuck into the side pocket of his bag.

“Necromancer,” she addressed. “You are ordered to stand before the Council and await judgement for your use of Soul Magic. If you try to run, your transgressions will be multiplied. Come with me now, hands above your head.”

Ed slowly raised his fists, fingers clenched tight.

“Palms shown. No circles,” she ordered.

Ed opened his hands… to show a smoke charm. Before she could react, he threw it at the ground, causing a cloud of smoke to burst upwards and conceal him completely. Magic bolts zinged through the smoke screen, but they ranged wide, allowing Ed to slip past the edge of the building and round onto another busy street.

People had gathered at the noises, so Ed had to push his way through the throng to escape. It slowed him considerably, but it also prevented the woman from firing on his unprotected back. Anyone who shot in such a crowded area was crazy.

_ “Fire!” _

_Zing._

Screams from the crowd.

Apparently, this woman was crazy.

*             *             *             *             *

Roy stepped out of the Way Station to feel his pocket jump with a spark of life. Hawkeye’s call stone, something must have happened. Digging it out, he slotted it into his phone to answer. He didn’t even finish his greeting before she demanded. “Where are you?!”

“I’m at the Way Station. I just got in.” He frowned at her urgency. “What’s going on?”

“Stop the necromancer,” she ordered. “He’s heading your—!”

Roy didn’t hear the rest of her words, because his eyes had caught a glint of gold in the sunlight. A ripple of gold and crimson, like fluid energy in its natural state rocketing towards him. For a moment, Roy’s breath caught.

Then his hand came up, circle between middle-finger and thumb and he began to chant. _“Flames, Ignite this world—!”_

*             *             *             *             *

Ed felt it. He felt the magic beneath the Mage’s words. He felt the blazing fury just waiting to spring forth. He could feel the teeming creature writhe to break free.

He could feel the control in the Mage’s grasp, the circle of his fingers a solid anchor.

Ed clapped his hands together and felt that control —that power, that _Potential_ —snap to him.

*             *             *             *             *

_ “—in a blaze of lights!” _

Roy felt the power beneath his words fizzle out.

_ “Ruby and amber and orange and gold…” _

No, not fizzle, it didn’t die. It shifted, transferred, was _stolen away from him_. His spell collapsed on itself, making something new, something dangerous, something… impossible.

_ “…upon these city streets, show your fierce might…” _

The necromancer had not countered Roy’s spell. He had taken it in its entirety and turned it back on him. That should be _impossible_!

_ “And impress on them the colors of old.” _

“Roy, move!” Hawkeye yelled as she fired a bolt at the necromancer, but the boy danced away, once again fluid energy. Fire licked at his feet, trailing behind him like a lost pup. It caused the crowd to scream and draw back, mothers grasping their children and husbands their wives.

“Roy!” Roy startled and stumbled back, bringing his hand up to try again.

_ “Burn, explode—!” _

_ “—embers fly into the sun. Give the people a dance of hot uptake. Show them your will from history unspun. Let the stone paths burn in your fi’ry wake.” _

Again, the power was sucked from his spell, feeding the flames that were causing havoc in the square. Roy cursed and dropped back further. Nothing he did would help. It would only feed that fire woven around the boy like an intimate partner.

_ “Oh Magick’d Flame, please be my mighty shield… and only when I have fled, may you yield.” _

With a final cry, the boy finished his spell —the longest Roy had ever heard —and a wall of flames burst from the ground to conceal the entire square, empty save for the boy. Arm over his eyes to defend against the heat, Roy didn’t notice the necromancer until he had leapt clear of the flames.

For a single moment, coal black met liquid gold and Roy thought he was done for —then the moment broke. The boy ran right past Roy, ducked into the teleporters and was gone.

The moment he left, Roy’s control over the flames snapped back and he extinguished them with barely a thought. The square was covered in soot and ash, but the stone bricks were otherwise unharmed.

“Where is he?” Hawkeye demanded, checking Roy over for injuries.

Roy nodded to the Way Station. “He ran through the flames and into the teleporter. I’m sure we can ask the conductor where he was headed.”

Hawkeye nodded, satisfied with his answer and the fact he was unhurt. She frowned and looked around the square. “What was that? What did he do?”

Roy’s mouth opened and closed before he answered, mystified. “I don’t know.”

*             *             *             *             *

Ed fell out of the teleporter, hand clenching tight around his right wrist. It felt like fire in his veins, like a brand scrawling itself achingly against his arm.  His leg felt as hot as a fresh brand. It knocked him straight to his knees, gasping out a silent pained scream.

 He didn’t need to look to know, but he did so anyway. Against his tan skin, the black Marks of the Curse advanced, slowly burning through his life force as they snuck up his elbow and underneath his pushed up sleeve.

Ed swallowed thickly.

“ _Edward_?” Al called from his bag. “ _Are you okay_?”

“I’m fine.” Ed shoved his sleeve down, suddenly remembering his surroundings. The Way Station was fairly empty, proving that the town was more ghost than thriving itself. Rush Valley was the stronghold for curse-breakers, where they were taught and trained. Winry had spent years here, learning to control her magic and live up to her Potential. That was long before Ed though, much longer.

“If you want to avoid pursuers, you should get moving,” the Shinigami advised.

Ed snorted as he stood. “I thought you weren’t helping me?”

The Shinigami fell quiet with a dark look.

Ed fixed his cloak and dusted off his pants. He glanced back to the teleporter before turning away and hurrying from the scene. The woman and Flame Mage from before would be fast on his heels if he wasn’t careful. If he stopped for even a minute, he was sure they’d find him and Al’s body would be lost forever.

His arm ached as he quickly disappeared into the city. People, unknowing of his flight from Central, waved and smiled at him like he was any other visitor to their city. He waved back if only to dispel any later accusation and eye witnesses.

Briefly, he entertained the thought of asking one to break his Curse, but he knew it was impossible. The Curse was unlike any human hex. It had its origins in another dimension entirely, from the source of magic itself. For that, there was no cure.

And now, Ed had even less time to find Al’s body than before.

“Do you know?” Ed asked quietly, voice low enough to only be heard by the Shinigami. He didn’t want his brother to overhear and worry. “How long I have left?”

The Shinigami stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head. “I do not. I only feel that the time to claim your soul had neared.”

“Well, you’re no help,” Ed groused.

“Death need not worry about time,” the Shinigami said solemnly. “All will return to it sooner or later. None can outrun Death forever.”

“Way to get philosophical,” Ed said, even as he shuddered at the thought.

“Who are you talking to?” A voice startled him. Whirling around, Ed lashed out with his leg like Al had taught him, chambering and kicking in one quick move. The person behind him jumped back with a surprised: “Whoa!”

“Who are you!?” Ed demanded. “Did you follow me through the Way Station?”

“Paninya,” the girl introduced herself. She seemed older than Ed but not by much. “I don’t know about ‘through’ it, but I’ve definitely been following since it.”

Ed narrowed his eyes at her. “Why?”

She beamed and held up a bottle, a very familiar bottle — _Al’s flask_.

Ed paled. “Give it back. Give it back, right now—!”

He lunged for it and she danced out of the way, dangling it high over his head. “You know, there’s a powerful spell on this bottle. I could feel it when you walked out of the Way Station. I could break it for you… for some gold.”

“Don’t!” Ed threw his hands forward as if to stop her. “Don’t. Please.”

She frowned in confusion. Eyeing the bottle, she threw it from one hand to another, unable to hear Al’s protesting cries. “Why not? Spells like this are never anything good. It’s all bad vibes, you know? I’d figure you would want to get rid of it as soon as possible.”

“ _Edward_!”

“Well, I don’t,” Ed said vehemently. He held out his hand in demand. “Just give him back and leave me alone.”

Grumbling, the dark skinned girl held the bottle out, only to freeze mid-action. “Him?”

Ed’s blood went cold at his mistake. When those brown eyes locked onto his wrist, he knew without a doubt that she recognized the Marks of the Curse. Before she had a chance to process and make conclusions, he snatched Al’s bottle from her hand and tore off down the streets.

“Hey!” she shouted, but he ignored her and darted into an alley for the second time that day in as many towns. He wasn’t sure where he was going other than _away_. He didn’t know this town and it showed when he took two steps around a corner only to end up at a dead end. He cursed colorfully and turned to continue his flight, only to see the same woman as before.

“You know,” Paninya started, arms crossed, “walking around with a spelled bottle and the Curse Marks on your arm paints a pretty bad picture. A picture someone from this town would want out of the city as soon as possible.”

Ed grit his teeth. His smoke trick from before wouldn’t work here. He had a few more charms left in his bag, but he wasn’t sure what he would need when it came to the Mage that had stolen Al’s body. He didn’t want to waste any, but he also couldn’t afford to use his magic. Not again, not so soon.

So instead of trying to pick a fight, he held up his hands in surrender, keeping his head low, but eyes on her. “I’ll leave. I swear I will. I just… I need to find someone, someone specific.”

“Someone to use that cursed bottle on?” She didn’t look impressed.

“... He took my brother,” Ed replied, not an answer, necessarily. “And killed my father.”

Paninya paled. “So you’re going to kill him?”

“He’s already dead,” Ed argued. “He stole Brother’s body, ripped his soul from it. I managed to save my brother’s soul, but… a Scryess said he was in this town somewhere. I just need to find him!”

Paninya’s eyes search him. “And after that? You’ll leave?”

“I swear it,” Ed said.

Paninya bit her lip, casting a glance down the street before motioning Ed to follow her. Confused, Ed took a step back. She sighed. “Look, I get the whole family thing. I won’t turn you in, but I want you out of this town as soon as possible. I know a good Scryer.”

At the title, Ed perked up. In a town like this, Ed was sure the Scryer would have a map of the town in order to better locate things inside the city borders. They would surely hasten his search, so long as they agreed to help.

“So where are you from, kid?” she asked as he followed her down the street.

“I’m _not_ a kid,” Ed replied testily. “And what does it matter? I’ll get my brother back and you won’t hear from me ever again.”

“Call me curious,” she said as she strolled ahead. “Spell as powerful as that, I’d have suspected to have heard of you before now. Not to mention your hair and eyes.”

“What about them?” Ed asked defensively. He’d gotten looks from people all over Central, like he was some kind of unique animal. He’d never thought there was anything special about them. They were the same as Father and Brother’s. He had thought it was normal.

“You don’t…?” Paninya regarded him over her shoulder before facing front and shrugging. “Never mind. So, where you from?”

Ed eyed her non-answer before quietly replying. “Risembool.”

She walked in silence for a few minutes before suddenly whirling around, eyes bright. “With Rockbell?!”

“You know Winry?” Ed’s voice came out quieter than he meant. He couldn’t help it though. If this woman was a friend of Winry’s, he was in luck.

“Know her? I lived with her when she was finishing up her apprenticeship!” Paninya gushed as she continued on her path, though walking backwards now. “I knew she was going home, but I would never have thought I’d meet one of her brothers!”

“I mean, we’re not really…”

“I know!” Paninya waved him off. “You’re not blood related, but you’re a young kid from Risembool, with blonde hair and golden eyes. Who else could you be but an Elric?”

Ed wondered if his looks really _were_ something to write home about… or in this case, write to a friend about.

“So which one are you then? The older or younger one?” Paninya asked.

“Younger,” Ed answered, not sure the information would be worth much.

“So Edward then!” Paninya brightened, then her smile faded. “So, then… Alphonse…?”

“He’s the one that _bastard_ attacked.” Ed’s gaze fell to the streets. “And I wasn’t strong enough to stop him. I could only pick up the pieces.”

They walked in silence again, Ed with his eyes on the bricks, Paninya with hers on him. Finally, she turned back around, nose in the air. “Well, a friend of Winry is always a friend of mine! I’ll help you in any way I can.”

Ed’s gaze flew up, but he could only stare at the back of her head. His lips twisted in a small smile and he ducked his head again. “Thanks.”

They walked into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Planning on an update Thursday next week and possibly Wednesday the week after. Weekends are going to get busy here.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or its characters, only the idea behind this fic.
> 
> PS - So the reason for an early update was to give a Valentine's gift to those who are spending today alone like I am. :) At least you'll have a nice chapter to read tonight!

 “So the conductor says that the necromancer was headed for Rush Valley,” Roy said as he returned to Hawkeye’s side.

“Gracia backs that claim,” Hawkeye replied as she dug the call stone out of the divot in her phone. It made it to her pocket with the others. “Apparently, she found a hair of his left behind on her chair. Her Scrying still puts him in Rush Valley. Maes is looking for a map of that city to see if we can’t narrow down his whereabouts.”

“Good.” Roy nodded, looking to where dusk has fallen. “Will he be able to get it within the hour?”

Hawkeye shook her head. “Most shops are closed for the night. We’ll most likely have to wait until tomorrow.”

“But he could move by then!” Roy ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “We need to find him now!”

“Even criminals need to sleep, Mustang,” Hawkeye said quietly, though her face was anything but soft. “We can send a message out to the other Way Stations to watch out for him now that we have a description.”

“Good idea,” Roy said, “and we could ask the Council to post a guard here, just in case he returns.”

“Yes, a guard and a Mage-?”

“No.” Roy shook his head. “No Mage, guards only.” At Hawkeye’s askance, he looked back to the ashy square. “The necromancer… when I used my magic, he… I don’t know _how_ , but he _stole_ it from me. He tacked onto my spell and manipulated it to fit _his_ needs. I’ve never heard of it before, but putting another Mage in his path will only give him another tool.”

“And that should be avoided at all costs,” Hawkeye agreed.

Roy gave her a grateful smile that she understood and started back down the street. Maes had invited them to stay over at his house in order to get a leg up on the necromancer. Roy believed it was also to have more protection for his pregnant wife, but he wasn’t willing to say so in front of Gracia.

After all the commotion, she had insisted she was ‘fine, dear. Stop worrying!’

Maes did not.

“Why do you think he went to Rush Valley?” Hawkeye wondered aloud. “There’s nothing there but curse breakers… unless… do you think he’s trying to break the Curse? If he conducted Soul Magic, he must have one, right?”

“He would know that’s a wasted effort,” Roy said, tugging his cloak tighter around him. “There’s a curse-breaker in his hometown who seemed close to him —which reminds me. I need to write her up.”

“Why?” Hawkeye cocked her head to the side, eyeing him as she walked.

“She knew of what transpired, but let him go anyway. She and her mentor were also trying to dispose of evidence, though they denied it when I asked,” Roy said in disgust. “Honestly, some people…”

“A curse-breaker letting a Marked run off? That doesn’t sound right.” Hawkeye frowned. “They are notoriously stringent about breaking the Laws of Magic. Even those close to them fall under suspicion, especially when the Curse appears. I’ve never heard of one of them letting a Marked go free.”

“It is strange…” Roy grew contemplative, but only for a moment. “However, it is not for me to decide. It will be for the Council to judge her actions. I just need to write up the report.”

“In the morning,” Hawkeye ordered, eyes sharp. “Sleep first.”

Roy rolled his eyes. “Yes, _mom_.”

She gave him a blank look. “If I were your mother, I wouldn’t accept such sass.”

Roy laughed, then grew quiet as the Hughes residence came into view. He reached the door first and held it open for Hawkeye, grinning at the look she gave him. Hey, he could be a gentleman… sometimes.

“I still wonder,” she said as she passed. “Why Rush Valley?”

“He’s looking for someone,” Gracia said from her place on the couch in the living room. Roy and Hawkeye peered in, curious. “At least, if you’re talking about the boy who was here. Someone took something from him and ran off. He managed to grab a scarf off them, but they disappeared before he could get his item back. Although, with the story Maes told me, I believe a lot of that has been fabricated.”

“It’s close enough,” Roy answered. “The ‘thing’ taken was his brother’s body —this is a case of Soul Magic being used to swap bodies.”

“Oh dear,” Gracia said, hand on her cheek. “And to think, he was such a nice boy…”

“Did you speak with him?” Hawkeye asked, coming in to sit on the end of the couch. She was careful not to taint the Scrying equipment with her touch. “Can you tell us about what his mindset was?”

“Well…” Gracia thought back. “He was uncertain when I opened the door to my shop this afternoon. He was the first customer I had after lunch. He wanted a Scrying, like I had said, but he seemed reluctant to enter my shop. I don’t think he’s ever been to a Scryer before. He settled down with some tea, though, and we were able to chat a bit before I attempted to find this person of his.”

She looked thoughtful as she remembered the brief encounter. “He was nervous and fidgety, but more in the ‘somewhere to be’ way than ‘creepy’ way. I thought he was just eager to get his belonging back —that it was a memento or something. I never got the feeling that he was, well…”

“You mean Elicia never got the feeling,” Maes said as he came down the stairs. “If you’re done interrogating my wife, your beds are ready upstairs.”

“Oh, Maes!” Gracia scowled (cutely, Roy would say, even if the woman was the same age as his friend). “You don’t need to worry! I was fine! _Am_ fine!”

“I know, honey, but I can’t help but worry!” Hughes posed dramatically, her hand clasped in his. “You’re my beautiful lovely wife! I would hate to see even a hair on your head hurt while under my watch!”

Gracia tried to keep her face straight, but she was laughing by the end of it. “Oh, you! Stop that! Take our guests upstairs.”

“Never, my dear, I will continue to love you forever!” Maes said, so sappy Roy felt the urge to gag. “This way.”

“Not sure why you need to show us the way,” Roy noted as he followed up the stairs and into the hall. “Especially since we’ve been here befo—?”

Maes stopped in front of the door, head hung and face dark.

“Hughes?” Hawkeye prompted.

Maes let out a shuddering breath and tipped his head back. “Sorry, I just… he was in my _house_ , in my _home_. He spoke with my _wife_. I just… I can’t—!”

Roy placed a hand on Maes’ shoulder in comfort. “It’s okay. Nothing happened right? Gracia’s fine. Nothing’s stolen.”

“He had upended the Scrying table in the office, but nothing broke,” Maes reported. “It looked more like a diversion than anything.”

“See? It’s fine,” Roy said.

Hawkeye pointed out. “He could have kidnapped Gracia or held her hostage if he was truly desperate.”

At the dark look on Maes’ face, Roy shot her a glare and comforted the man again. “But he didn’t do that, right? She’s not hurt. She wasn’t even scared.”

“Right… right,” the man said again with a sigh. “Not hurt, not scared. Elicia wasn’t even scared.”

Recognizing the name they’d chosen for their child, Roy had to ask. “What does Elicia have to do with this?”

Maes frowned before looking at Roy with honesty plain on his face. “For the last couple weeks… Gracia has felt different _things_ from Elicia. A couple were coincidences. A sudden bathroom break right as she was about to leave, and then it starts pouring outside. If she had left even seconds before, she would have been caught in the rain, possibly gotten sick.”

“That doesn’t sound too drastic.” Roy cocked his head to the side, wondering what had his friend in such a state.

“Then things got weird.” Maes’ gaze drifted to the side. “One time, Gracia entered a store, only for Elicia to start kicking her harshly. She left to sit outside and wait out the episode. Minutes later, the police were surrounding the store and negotiating hostages with the gunmen inside.”

Roy and Hawkeye exchanged a look.

“It’s happening more and more often. Gracia will go somewhere or speak with someone and Elicia will kick at her or force her away just in time to avoid a disaster.” Maes looked up suddenly, eyes wide. “Don’t get me wrong! I’m grateful that Gracia and Elicia are fine, but when so many incidents add up…”

“It becomes something more than coincidence,” Roy finished for him. “For her to _not_ react to the necromancer is definitely strange, given his recent history.”

“Roy…” Maes looked pained. “I know that Clairvoyance is a forbidden practice, but Elicia…”

“I’m sure if you explain it to the Council, they will work out a system to keep her from breaking any rules and invoking the Curse on herself,” Roy assured him with a gentle smile. “If her feelings grow to visions, they might have her wear a suppressant bracelet, but she shouldn’t be different from any other child. It is only if she _chooses_ to use it, that she may find herself in the path of danger.”

Maes didn’t look happy, but he looked less stressed by the prospect of losing his daughter before she was even born.

“Anyway, we should be turning in for the night.” Roy clapped his friend on the shoulder and nodded to Hawkeye. “Don’t forget to call for a Guard. I want that Way Station on lock down until I can pursue the necromancer tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, sir.” Hawkeye saluted and turned away to make a call.

Roy turned back to his friend. “Everything will be fine, Maes. You’ll see.”

“I sure hope so, Roy.” Maes sighed and looked down the stairs to where his wife was working on some embroidery. “I sure hope so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week will also be an early update, because I have something going on next weekend, but I don't want to leave you hanging too long. I'm thinking Thursday again, but it may be as early as Wednesday. We'll see.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or its characters, only the idea for this fic.
> 
> PS - Little earlier update, but we'll get back to Friday updates next week! :)
> 
> Please enjoy!

_A smile from the void, vicious and friendly in equal measure._

_“One day down.” A voice both familiar and not. “Two to go.”_

*             *             *             *             *

Ed woke with his lungs burning, as if he’d run a marathon in his sleep. Sweat dampened his hair and his muscles twitched with exertion. Pressing his palm to his forehead, he took a shaky breath to slow his frazzled heart.

What had woken him? A nightmare? He could only recall a — _smile from the void_.

One day down, two to go.

_“Plan well, little necromancer.”_

Ed swallowed thickly, remembering the warning from his dream. He’d never had the gift of Clairvoyance —one forbidden affinity was enough for him —but the dream had him worried. Pushing away from the bed, Ed pulled up his shirt. Nothing on his chest or abdomen or—!

Dark marks painted his left hip, peeking out just about his waistband.

His breath caught around the lump in his throat.

The marks had only gone to his shin the day before. Yes, he’d used magic, but for it to affect him to this extent? Worried, Ed pulled up the pant leg of his unmarked limb. Black symbols wove around his ankle in a thin line.

He felt the pressure in his chest grow.

_“Edward? Are you awake?”_

Letting out a slow breath, Ed swallowed before he answered. “Yes, Brother.”

_“How are you feeling this morning? How does the Curse look? Has it gotten worse?”_

“It’s fine.” Ed looked up to meet the blood-red eyes of his tagalong. The Shinigami looked unimpressed at his lie. In response, Ed set his jaw. “It’s a little bigger than yesterday. It’s to my knee and elbow, but it’s okay. We’ll get your body back before then. Then the Curse will revert and we’ll be fine.”

_“Revert? Edward, no one knows how to revert the Curse.”_

“It makes sense, doesn’t it?” Ed asked, unraveling his hair to run quick fingers through it and pull it up into a single strand instead of a braid. “If I was cursed for keeping your soul here, then putting it back where it belongs should reverse the Curse, right?”

_“... I… guess so? It’s an interesting theory in the least…”_

The Shinigami shrugged and turned his gaze away.

“Then it’ll be fine!” Ed said sternly, almost enough to believe it himself. “We’ll get your body back, reverse my curse, and kick that bastard to the afterlife! Piece of cake.”

Al sighed in fond exasperation and Ed found himself smiling in the face of his burden.

His clothes fixed for the day, Ed gathered up his stuff and crept downstairs. No Mages or Guards from the Council were there. He wasn’t found yet.

“Good morning!” Paninya called from the kitchen at the end of the stairs. “Sensei has been tracking your guy, but he’s slippery.”

“More like his pattern makes no sense,” Old Man Dominic said from his place at the table. Multiple maps covered the surface, with the Rush Valley in a pile discarded to the side. Ed felt his heart sink.

“Did he leave town?” Ed asked, coming to the table to get a look at the current map, one of Amestria. A Scry gem hovered over an area North of Rush Valley, past a town Ed didn’t recognize.

“Yes, but not by Way Station.” The old man dropped back in his seat as Paninya came around with breakfast. “I can track his travel from town to town, something that Scry gems can’t do when teleporters came into play. But everyone knows this, so why would he _choose_ to avoid them?”

Ed thought in silence before asking, “How old is teleporter technology?”

“Now?” Paninya tilted her head in thought. “Probably about 12 years. It took a while for those scholar types to figure out how to make them automatic and renewable. A little more time for the Council to prove them safe for the general populace to use. Longer to actually _get_ Way Stations set up in every large town and a network of anchors and conductors made up to keep things on track.”

“Why?” Dominic asked, eyes suspicious. “What are you thinking?”

“What if… he doesn’t want to go through official channels?” Ed suggested, thinking hard. “Every Way Station keeps a log of where the traveler goes, right? Maybe he wants to avoid leaving a trail? If he’s old enough to remember a time _before_ Way Stations, maybe he’s got an alternate method of transportation?”

“It’s possible.” Dominic ran a hand through his hair. “But he’s not traveling by conventional means, that’s for sure. These two towns here? A day’s journey by horse, more by wagon or foot. Whatever he’s using, it’s fast.”

_A hazy image of a not-right smile on Al’s face. Venomous words in his brother’s voice. A form floating far above him and cutting through the blue sky…_

“He’s flying,” Ed decided, staring down at the map. “That’s how he got away from me before. Flying.”

The old man scratched at his chin. “Well… it’s surely faster than foot or horse, though nowhere near as fast as a Way Station or teleporter stones. It makes sense… so long as his Magic Potential is high enough.”

With Alphonse’s body? Ed had no doubt it was.

“How am I going to catch up to him?” Ed groaned to himself. “Teleporting would be fast, but enough to catch up?”

“But these smaller towns don’t have much in terms of Way Stations.” Dominic tapped a finger on the map. “What’s more, his path is haphazard. He was going west for a while before he turned around and headed North-East. I’m not sure even _he_ knows where he’s going.”

“Unpredictability like that—” Paninya waved a fork at the map. “—you could be teleporting to the same town he’s heading to, only to find out that he’s switched directions and is now halfway to Central.”

Ed chewed on the inside of his cheek in thought. “What if… I use localized teleport crystals? I travel 5 kilometers or so, check his position, then correct my course if necessary?”

“Use a leap-frog approach?” Dominic grew pensive, eyebrows raising as he thought. “It could work… but you won’t have a Scryer every place you land. If he keeps his Northern route, you’ll run out of towns sooner rather than later. The next thing north of this little ‘burg here would be the Briggs Fortress of Solitude and you’d be lucky to get in there. Not even the Council has full control over that Brotherhood, though, since the Mages there go looking for solitude, I think it’s kind of a given.”

“And if he changes course without my being able to check…” Ed cursed and let out a long breath. “I’m back where I started.”

The man regarded him for a long moment, scratching at his before. “You know, I might have a solution.”

Ed’s head shot up.

“I can infuse a Scry gem with a spell and item to track —to be used by anybody.” Dominic’s face grew pensive. “The only drawback would be that you have to use magic to activate it. It might tire you out if you use it too much.”

Ed’s agreement died on his lips. He knew he no longer had a week left, he _knew_ it in a way that felt like it was carved into his bones. Using magic would only exasperate the process…

All the same, if Ed didn’t keep up with the bastard, he’d run out of time entirely.

He was desperate enough to try.

“I’ll take it,” Ed said, voice determined. “How long would it take you to make?”

“Fifteen minutes, maybe.” Dominic nodded to Ed’s plate. “About how long it’ll take you to eat, I reckon.”

Lips twisting into a wry smile, Ed dug into his food as the man laughed and levered to his feet. The stairs squeaked as Dominic disappeared up into his study. Paninya rested her chin in her hand to watch when she saw something that made her frown.

Ed didn’t notice, tucking in with gusto. It wasn’t until he reached for a biscuit that Paninya caught his arm. Looking up, he frowned at her pale face. Tracking her gaze, he connected with his shoulder —his right shoulder, right above his collar. His hand flew to the skin bared by his shirt. Had the mark gone that far? Hadn’t he checked it? Didn’t it stop at the bicep?

No, he’d stopped looking when he saw the marks at his hip. He’d forgotten to check the rest of him. But it couldn’t have progressed so far, could it? It had only been a day since he spoke with Winry!

Just how much longer did he have?

He looked over to Paninya, eyes dark. Before he could ask, though, she just shook her head and pointed to his cloak in the corner.

Yeah, that would cover it up, make sure Dominic didn’t see.

“The teleporters,” she said. “What was the real reason you asked about them?”

“What makes you think I didn’t already say?”

“Because you asked about how old they were, not about how their logs worked or any of the official stuff.” She twirled her fork on her plate.

Ed took a sip of his drink to clear his throat.

“My father… he trapped the man that took my brother’s body 16 years ago,” Ed said carefully. “Then he kept away from any and all cities as much as he could, only traveling by foot. I wonder if the person in my brother’s body even knows about them? Or if he’s relying on old methods because he _doesn’t_ know…”

 Paninya thought for a long second before her eyebrows rose up. “You might be on to something there. If your story is true, then he very well might not know about teleporter technology —in which case flying _would_ be the fastest mode of transportation if there was somewhere he needed to be in a hurry.”

“The real question is: where is he heading?” Ed stared down at the map, apprehension drawing his shoulders tight. It would make all the difference in the world if this man decided to go frolicking off in a different direction. If he kept true to his current course, Ed could eventually catch up to him. If he didn’t…

_One down, two to go_.

Ed shivered at the whisper in his ear.

The stairs creaked again then, signaling Dominic’s return. “Okay, I’ve got the spell infused into this… Why do you have your cloak on?”

“Got cold.” Ed shrugged and finished off the last of his meal.

The man stared, then seemed to find nothing amiss as he made his way to the table. “The spell is infused here with the essence from that scarf of yours. No spell is needed to activate it, but it will require a little magic to jumpstart the search.”

Even though he had been expecting it, Ed felt his blood run cold at that. A magical jumpstart? But… he only had so much magic, so much _time_ left. Would he be able to find his brother’s body before he was picked away entirely? Or would he make it to his goal, only to die before Al’s soul was put back in its rightful place?

At this point, did he really have any other choice?

“I’ll also give you this map here, free of charge,” Dominic added, tapping at the weather-proofed map he had been working on. “So long as you bring it back with you, that is. It’s hard to get my hands on maps around these parts.”

“I’ll take good care of it,” Ed swore as he gingerly wrapped up the large map. He picked up the Scry gem, looking over its perfectly spherical body. It was a translucent red, a similar color to the Shinigami’s eyes from where he stared at Ed in the corner of the room.

Ed wondered if this was an early call on his penance.

“Thanks for everything.” Ed shook Dominic’s hand. “For the map, the gem, the food, and…”

“It’s nothing! Nothing.” Dominic waved him off. “Any friend of Winry’s is a friend of ours.”

Ed smiled gratefully before going up to grab the rest of his things and stowing the map away. It was only when he was downstairs again, hand on the door knob, that Paninya stopped him.

It was a light touch on his shoulder, betraying her nerves. He looked back with a questioning stare, but she hesitated. It took a few false starts before she took a deep breath and set her shoulders.

“Four,” she said, and that was it.

Ed had to stop, to wonder about what she could possibly be referring to… when it hit him.

Four… four days left.

Yesterday, it had been a week.

Now, he was down to four days.

His little magic trick yesterday had cost him two whole days and his night of sleep another.

He had no more time to lose.

He nodded in understanding, and then left, door closing firmly behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this, we are half-way through my fic!
> 
> Again, next update will be Friday next week. :) I look forward to seeing you again!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or its characters, only the idea for this fic.
> 
> PS - I don't know if people want to see them or not, but I'm planning to put the poems I wrote into the last 'chapter' of this fic. Which means it will be 12 chapters long, but the story ends in chapter 11.
> 
> Just FYI.

“How’s it looking this morning?” Roy asked around a mug of coffee. Hawkeye was seated next to Gracia, food at her elbow as the brunette worked.

“He hasn’t left Rush Valley, not yet,” she answered, eyes intent on the Scry gem. “But Maes hasn’t gotten back with the map, so _where_ in Rush Valley, I don’t know.”

Roy nodded and finished off his coffee. “Will you be okay on your own until Maes returns?”

“Of course!” Gracia chirped, but Hawkeye pinned Roy in place with a glare.

“Roy,” she said slowly. “You ate the breakfast I put out for you, right?”

Roy stiffened. “It was delicious, Hawkeye.”

“ _Roy_.”

Roy gulped and hung his head. She sighed. “Go back and eat.”

“I had—!”

“Coffee and toast does not count as breakfast. Go back and eat.”

Letting out a long sigh, Roy obeyed. He was in the middle of a strip of bacon when Maes burst through the door with several rolled sheets. “You’ll never guess what was on sale today! My lovely Gracia~!”

“Maps?” Roy guessed around the food in his mouth. Maes gave him a very disappointed look. Roy grinned back.

“Bring them in here, honey!” Gracia called back from the living room. Perking up, Maes did just that. They set up as Roy finished his meal. By the time he had taken care of the dishes, Gracia had a location for them. “It’s in an uptown area, likely residential from what the map says.”

“So he didn’t stay in an inn or something of the sort.” Roy frowned at the sheet. “Odds that he killed someone for a night’s sleep?”

“Low,” Hawkeye answered. “It doesn’t fit his behavior thus far. He didn’t threaten Gracia, no one was harmed in the square —not even us who had been attacking him —and no reports of violence in Rush Valley as of yet.”

“So we’re likely looking at another accomplice,” Roy decided. “If not a friend of his, then perhaps one of his curse-breaker’s.”

“Records show that she _did_ study there some years ago, under a man named Dominic,” Maes reported, reading from various papers that Roy had sent him to find. “He has a history of looking the other way for friends and family. And it looks like that curse-breaker that you spoke with lived with him for a while. Long enough to be considered friends, no doubt.”

“We’ll have to check him out later. No conviction without proof. For now…” Roy looked to Hawkeye, “We’ll go see if we can’t catch up to him. You two stay here and monitor. If he moves, give me a call.”

Maes and Gracia nodded as Hawkeye stood up.

“Let’s move out.”

*             *             *             *             *

Ed had to be careful. Since the invention of the Way Stations, not many people bought teleport crystals. If he suddenly bought dozens from one vendor, people were likely going to get suspicious. The last thing he wanted was to call down local enforcement on himself.

So, even though he’d have a lower harvest, he forced himself to only buy three or four crystals from any vendor, along with food and other goods to hide his purchase. It cleaned out his wallet, but it got the job done.

*             *             *             *             *

“He’s in the shopping district,” Maes relayed. “Should be three streets up from the Way Stations.”

“I see it,” Roy said, taking off at a fast pace. “What’s he doing in a shopping district? Why hasn’t he moved on?”

“Supplying,” Hawkeye answered to his left. “Where he’s going, I am assuming there is little civilization.”

“What’s the purpose then?” Roy frowned as they arrived at the bazaar. As the last large city before Briggs, hundreds of people teemed through the streets like ants at a picnic. It wasn’t nearly as big as Central, but the market was far from quiet. How in the world was Roy going to find—?

Red and gold, sliding through the crowd like water through riverbeds. The boy hadn’t ditched the eye-catching red cloak, which would have been much smarter, on par with leaving town while he’d had the chance.

Silently, Roy wove through the crowd, tracking the golden head that he could barely see over the other people and shops. Once or twice, he lost the boy, only for him to show up halfway down the road. He lost him once again when the blonde ducked around a corner and disappeared from sight. Hurrying forward, Roy rounded the same corner, just in time to see the boy draw a teleport crystal from his bag.

“Hey, you!” Roy called out, trying to delay the boy. “Wait!”

Liquid gold eyes streaked to him, wide with fear before the crystal shattered and burst into light, taking the boy with it.

Phone still active, Roy yelled into it, adrenaline spiking. “Where did he go? Maes?!”

“He… Gracia…” Maes’ voice sounded distant, as if he wasn’t speaking directly into the device. “She doesn’t know. He left the town entirely. He’s gone.”

*             *             *             *             *

Ed landed in a bush somewhere north of Rush Valley. He wasn’t exactly sure _how far_ north, but it was what he’d told the teleport crystal to do. The elevation was off, but in Ed’s favor. If the ground had been higher, he’d have ended up _in it_ rather than on it.

He had to be more careful next time.

_“Edward? Are you hurt?”_

“Nope. Not a scratch on me. You?” Ed rifled through his bag to find —but Al’s bottle was safe, not a single crack in sight. He let out a sigh of relief.

_“I’m okay. Where are we? I thought we were going to the city limits?”_

“Plans change,” Ed replied. “Council Mages found me. I sent us farther north.”

_“How far?”_

Ed didn’t immediately answer. “Far enough.”

 _“Edward! You know you shouldn’t teleport without having a precise location in mind —preferably in_ sight _!”_ Alphonse lectured. “ _Bad things could happen_!”

“I was startled! It’s fine!” Ed argued. “I won’t do it again! Promise.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you did,” the Shinigami said. “It would save me some trouble.”

Ed sent him a glare, then pulled out their map it was focused on the North-West sector of Amestria where they would be committing their search for now. Taking out the Scry gem Dominic had given him, Ed took a steadying breath before reaching for his Potential.

No spell needed meant that Ed didn’t waste time with words, but it didn’t keep the flare of pain around his ankle from surfacing. The ring of symbols felt like they would sear off his foot entirely and creep up further to claim more. He could already feel the burn at his hip inching upwards.

Ed kept up the torture long enough to get a position on Al’s body, then let the spell go with an agonized breath. He gripped his ankle tight, as if he could smother the flames with his palm. His entire being was shorted-out on pain.

And he’d have to do this _every time_?

_“What’s it look like?”_

Ed took a minute to compose himself, before letting out a gasp. “He went more East. We’re still on track, though.”

_“Edward? You don’t sound so good.”_

“I’m fine. Just wasn’t expecting the way the Curse… reacted.”

 _“… It grew, didn’t it?”_ It wasn’t pitched as a question. Al knew it would. He’d heard Winry’s warning, just like Ed. He just couldn’t see how bad it was.

“A little,” Ed admitted. “Not a lot. Nothing to worry about.”

He honestly didn’t know how much and he wasn’t about to look. He’d worry about himself after he fixed Alphonse.

Taking a glance at the sky and the direction of the shadows from the nearby pines, Ed took a breath, set his face to the North and drew out another teleport stone.

Here goes nothing.

*             *             *             *             *

“Okay, Gracia has got his position,” Maes reported over the phone line as Roy whirled around to scan the streets.

“Fantastic,” Roy bit out through clenched teeth. “Where?”

“He’s… outside of the city?”

“Is that a question?” Roy asked, spotting Hawkeye through the crowd. He waved her over and set his back to the corner so as not to get swept up in the crowd.

“No, he is outside the city. About 5 kilometers North East of Rush Valley,” Maes elaborated, sounding surer of himself. “It’s not the _smartest_ move, all things considered. We can always just have the city patrol check anyone coming in — _shit!_ ”

“What?” Roy demanded. “What is it?”

“Gracia lost him again,” Maes whispered into the phone. “He’s teleported again. How many of those crystals did he pick up, Roy? He could end up in any number of places! And depending on how long it takes Gracia to find him, we could lose —Oh, wait, she’s got him again.”

“That was fast.” Roy frowned. “Too fast. Is he in Rush Valley again?”

“No, he’s…” Maes’ voice grew quiet as he leaned away from the phone. “About another 5 kilometers, this time directly due north.”

“What is he doing there?” Roy frowned, eyes hard on the ground. “That doesn’t make sense… What else is up there?”

“Other than a few tiny moose-hunting villages? Nothing but Briggs up on the border,” Maes replied, voice low in confusion. “This makes no sense, Roy! He’s getting further and further away from people!”

“Or, he’s getting closer and closer to _one particular_ person.” Roy narrowed his eyes. “Gracia said he was looking for someone, right? And I learned that someone was the one that stole his brother’s body. It could be, that person has fled to the North.”

“It’s certainly a possibility,” Maes agreed, “but then the question is, what is _that person_ doing that far north?”

“Now _that_ is a question I cannot answer.” Roy looked to Hawkeye. “Maes, we’re going to do a little detective work over here, find out just how many teleport crystals he bought and what other supplies he has on hand. Give us a call when he starts to slow down.”

“Will do, Roy!” Maes’ voice was firm, as if he were saluting over the phone. Roy couldn’t help an exasperated laugh as he hung up the phone.

“What’s happening now?” Hawkeye asked, not having heard half their conversation.

“The necromancer is hopping northward,” Roy answered, separating Maes’ call stone from his phone and pocketing both within easy reach. “Gracia finds him every few minutes only to lose him again. Maes will call us when it looks like the boy is slowing down enough for us to catch.”

“And in the meantime, we canvas the area and see if there are any clues to what exactly he plans to do that far north.” Hawkeye nodded in understanding. “But… what could possibly be up there for him? Not the necromancer, the… _other_.”

“I don’t know, Hawkeye.” Roy looked down the alley to where the golden-haired teen had disappeared in a smattering of light. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And~ that makes us 7 chapters down, 4 more to go! :) Hope you all are enjoying it!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or its characters, only the idea for this fanfic.
> 
> PS - So, here's where I start to hate my story a bit. Roy's personality is a bit unstable for two or three chapters here because he needs to do something, but is very against it. He fought me the entire time, making it very hard to write.
> 
> I apologize in advance for any breaks in character.

“ _Ed, you need to stop_ ,” Al said after hours of silence.

“It’s okay, Brother, I can keep going,” Ed said, fingers clenching into fists in his armpits.

_“Can you even see?”_

Ed paused, squinting into the dark. He… thought he saw the silhouette of some trees in the distance… and maybe the mountain range he’d been using as a landmark.

But that might just be his eyes, now that he’s focusing on it. Plus, even if he did come across that bastard, would Ed be able to fight him when he couldn’t even see his hands in front of his face?

_“Take a break. Set up camp. Get warm,”_ Al ordered, his soul flaring bright in the jar. “ _Eat something too. You need to keep your strength up.”_

Ed’s stomach growled. He wouldn’t mind some food, but he was loath to get warm. Yes, his fingers were numb and his teeth chattered, but the numbness that came with cold had softened the pain that came with checking their locations. Between cold and pain, Ed would choose cold every time.

But he knew if he kept going, there was a very real danger of hypothermia. So he obeyed his brother, carved out a small circle from the snow and set the Flame Stones to warm his food and body.

*             *             *             *             *

“He’s stopped moving,” Hawkeye reported, hand holding her phone close to her ear. “Gracia says it’s another 3km north of us.”

After waiting around for half an hour, they had decided the necromancer wasn’t going to turn around at any point and decided to give chase on their own. They’d had to supply quickly for however long their pursuit would be, but at the rate the teen was going, he’d be at Briggs’ doorstep in three days’ time.

Then, it would be Olivier’s problem. Before that, though, he was still under Roy’s jurisdiction.

“I want to talk to him,” Roy said, voice hard in support of his decision. “None of his actions thus far have pointed to the kind of person that would inflict the Curse on himself. I want to see what his story is. Who knows? We might find some more information to shine light on his situation.”

“I’m not letting you go in alone,” Hawkeye said.

“You can and will,” Roy replied, tugging on his gloves until they sat right. “I want to see if he can be negotiated with. Having a show of force won’t help with that.”

Hawkeye frowned harshly, but held her tongue. Despite his youthful appearance, Roy was still her boss. His orders were final. She dipped her head in acknowledgement.

*             *             *             *             *

“So, what’s it like, being a Shinigami?” Ed asked as he sipped at his hot tea. A stew boiled over the hot stones. He sat close enough that his toes could feel the heat.

“I take the souls of the dead. I hear them cry out and end their suffering,” the Shinigami replied. “It is what all Shinigami do.”

Ed’s face fell as he stared down at the ground. “Well, _you’re_ not much of a conversationalist.”

The Shinigami regarded him for several minutes, then stared into the fire. “... I… was not always a Shinigami.”

A startled but intrigued noise pressed him on.

“I don’t remember much of… before. It is a curse from living so long. Other memories crowd out those precious early ones.” The Shinigami frowned. “I don’t remember my daily life or dreams or goals. Even my name is lost to me.”

Ed took a sip to chase away the cold shill down his spine.

“But I remember… I had a brother.” Red eyes flicked to Ed, then trailed down to the jar by his hip. Al’s soul flared, as if feeling the gaze. “He had been all I had left. Our parents had been taken by… others. We were alone, but as long as we had each other, we could continue on. Then he… he was gone.”

Ed’s hand went to Al’s bottle involuntarily.

“He was gone and I was mad, _enraged_. At the people that took him, took my parents, took everything from me,” the Shinigami spat through clenched teeth. His aura darkened, tension thick in the air. “I wanted revenge on those others, wanted them to feel my pain. I almost succeeded. I _did_ succeed in some ways, but… in the end, it killed me.”

Red eyes stared down at the palm of his hand in contemplation. “At the gates to the next life, I was held back. I was told to pay for my sins, to find forgiveness before I could pass on. And so, I was cursed to roam the earth as a Shinigami until my full measure had been atoned for.”

“That’s… I never knew.” Ed sipped at his tea, fingers gliding over the surface of Al’s bottle. “How… how long has it been?”

“I know not the years as humans count,” the Shinigami replied. “Only that I have seen the sunrise on far too many days and stolen the souls of far too many children left to the snow.”

Ed shuffled his feet on the snow self-consciously. “I’m sorry, I… I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Do not be. It was…” the Shinigami paused, searching for the right word. “Nice. To allow someone else to know my burden.”

“Even if I’ll only be around for another few days,” Ed grumbled to himself. He threw the sludgy contents of his cup out into the snow and rested his elbows on his knees. “Well, fair’s fair. You know most of my story, but if you’ve got any other questions, I’m all ears.”

“I have a few.” Ed’s heart lurched. That voice was _not_ from the Shinigami. “First question, who are you talking to?”

*             *             *             *             *

“ _That’s… I never knew_...”

Roy saw the light of the fire long before he heard the voice drifting over the snow. Before, when he’d heard the necromancer speak, it had been full of stolen power and desperation. Here, now, it was filled with a tired calm and empathetic sorrow. “ _How… how long has it been_?”

It was a question, but to whom? As far as they could tell, the necromancer was working alone. When Roy neared, keeping the crunch of his footsteps quiet under the crackling of the fire, he saw no one there with the necromancer. Yet the teen was definitely staring at _something_ to his side.

“ _Well, fair’s fair. You know most of my story, but if you’ve got any other questions, I’m all ears_.”

And really, Roy couldn’t have asked for a better segway.

“I have a few,” Roy said as he stepped into the light of the fire. Golden eyes alit from the Flame Stones pierced him through the dark landscape. In the firelight, they looked even more hypnotizing, veiled in golden tresses and a deep red hood. The necromancer went stiff, like he wanted to run, but feared being surrounded already.

Roy held up his hands to show his good intentions, but couldn’t help the burning curiosity. “First question, who are you talking to?”

He watched those eyes stare to slide sideways then halt in a long taught habit. Pale lips thinned. “It’s impolite to eavesdrop on someone’s conversation. Even if it _is_ with myself.”

“No need to get defensive,” Roy said, stepping forward carefully. The teen shuffled his feet, but didn’t bolt. Roy counted it as a win. “Mind if I sit?”

No response. Roy did so anyway.

He held out his hands to warm them. Golden eyes watched him warily. Roy smiled charmingly. “What? No tea?”

“Where’s your guard?”

“Waiting for me to return. I came alone.”

For a long moment, the necromancer didn’t move, then he slowly reached down for his pack. He kept his eyes on Roy for as long as possible before he had to look down to rummage through his bag. He came out with handfuls of various herbs that Roy could hardly identify in the dark.

“So?” Roy started as the teen rolled the dried herbs between his palms into a cloth on his lap. “Who were you talking to?”

Golden eyes flashed up before looking back down at his work. “You won’t believe me.”

“Try me,” Roy challenged. “I might die of curiosity if you don’t.”

“Shinigami.” The teen threw a handful of one herb into the stew that he had been prepping. A look to Roy as if to ask ‘so’?

And Roy had to think for a minute, because… “Isn’t that a death god?”

“Yup,” the teen said, his lips pursing tightly on the last letter.

“… Are you messing with me?” Roy asked, because really? Speaking with a death god? If he wanted to make fun, he could have chosen a more believable explanation. “They don’t exist.”

“How do you know?” the teen asked, eyes glimmering in the low light. His hands worked deftly on some more herbs, some that Roy could smell from his place. Dried roses and peppermint… was he making tea for Roy? Really? It had been a teasing jab, nothing more, but he seemed to take it seriously. “They could be real.”

“We would have seen one by now, if so.”

“Just because you can’t see something, doesn’t mean it’s not real,” the teen argued. “Can you see air? Can you see gravity, not just its affect? What about the soul? The majority can’t see it, but there is still the forbidden Soul Magic. Why would it be called that if souls don’t exist?”

Well, the boy did have a point, loathe as Roy was to admit it. The mention of Soul Magic drew up Roy’s guard, but his ears caught on another way of wording. “Majority?”

“Hmm?” The boy dumped his herbs into a small pot set off to the side.

“You said ‘the majority can’t see’, meaning there are some that can.” Roy’s eyes narrowed in the dark. “Who do you know of?”

The boy faltered, hands reaching out to the snow bank. He scooped some up and packed it into the pot before setting it near the Flame Stones to melt. “No one. Forget it. I misspoke.”

“I don’t think you did.” Roy watched the teen as he drew his cloak more fully around his shoulders. He thought over their small conversation, about the key points the teen had made, about his first claim that started the debate… “You can see them.”

“No.” The teen hissed quickly. “No, I can’t.”

“You can,” Roy insisted. “That’s how you knew. You don’t just know someone, you _are_ the one that can see them.”

Then a realization. “So Shinigami are real?”

The return to the original subject seemed to catch the teen off-guard. He gave Roy a wide-eyed stare before looking down to the two pots bubbling lightly. He gave a shrug.

“That’s who you were talking to before, right?” Roy looked into the empty space the teen had been facing before. “Do they have a name?”

The teen’s eyes skated over the space, seeming to focus in on something Roy could not see. “Not one he can remember.”

“Fascinating.” Roy couldn’t help the educational interest that simmered in his chest. Yes, he was a One-Star Mage, but he was a researcher first and foremost and the idea of something not yet recorded in the history of the world had his scholarly excitement piqued. And to think, if he’d never spoken with the boy before him, he would have never known… “And you? Do you have a name?”

“Does it matter?” The teen ducked his head as the scent of herbal tea began to fill the air. He dug a cup out of his bag, mismatched to the other lying bottom up in the snow. “You’re just here to drag me back to the Council so they can kill me.”

“Well…” Roy shifted uncomfortably at the blatant reveal of his mission. “The magic you performed _has_ broken the Statues of Magic as set by the High Council. I’m sure you understand their—?”

“And I’m sure _you_ understand that the Curse will do me in long before they can decide my fate!” the teen snapped, eyes glowing in the dancing light. “I’ve got three days at most and every minute it gets shorter. I have no time to go before the Council and wait on Elders to decide my punishment.”

“Three days?” Roy repeated, a little disbelief in his voice. “That’s… that’s incredibly short. Most accounts say months or _years_.”

“Do the accounts also tell of the effect of using magic?” The teen filled the cup he’d drawn from his bag with tea and offered it to Roy. “Every spell cast drains the time the Cursed have left.”

“Ah, yes, I… may have heard of that,” Roy said, drawing his drink to himself. He gave it a dubious look. “But to that extent?”

“It varies for each spell. A simple scrying spell will chip away at minutes and hours, but something like that Flame spell of yours?” The teen gave Roy a pointed look, but it wasn’t _Roy’s_ fault he’d stolen the spell from him. Even if Roy still wasn’t sure _how_ he’d done it. “That took a third of the time I had to begin with.”

A third. For that spell? Roy shuddered.

“Is something wrong with your tea?” the boy asked suddenly, an annoyed look on his face. “You made a big deal about it, but now you won’t drink?”

“Oh, sorry, but I’m sure you understand.” Roy shrugged, careful not to spill the tea on himself. “Can’t be too cautious.”

“What, did I use some of my precious time to bespell a curse? You know how long it takes me to even cast a spell. I wouldn’t be able to do it without you knowing.”

Yes, that was true. Roy remembered the unnecessarily long spell the teen had to use to cast. Or, necessary in this case? It seemed like a hassle.

“And it can’t be poisoned,” the teen said as he filled the other cup. “Since I’m going to have a cup myself.”

Roy watched as the boy took a drink, noting the dip in levels afterwards as proof of his words. Dark eyes drifted down to his own cup. Well, it _did_ smell good and Roy _was_ a little on the cold side. His gaze flicked up, but the boy wasn’t watching, as if he didn’t care what Roy did. He was digging through his bag instead; his search ending with a spoon in hand.

Roy took a sip of the tea and felt his shoulders relax as warmth curled in his stomach. “This is good.”

“I hope so, because it’s the only thing you’re getting from me,” the boy said as he took the other pot into his lap. He hissed and piled a couple rags and the end of his cloak underneath it. Must be hot. “Herbs and water, I can spare. I ain’t got enough food for two though.”

“That’s quite all right. My companion has our own provisions.” Roy shrugged and sipped at his tea again.

“You mean the crazy lady that shot into the crowd?” The boy gave him a very unimpressed look.

“Erm… yes.” Roy made a mental note to speak with Hawkeye about civilian casualties again.

“Good luck with that,” the boy said sardonically before digging into his stew. “So, is there something else you needed? Or can you get out of my campsite now?”

Roy sighed. “I can’t leave without you in custody.”

“I _told_ you, I don’t have time—!”

“I’m afraid that isn’t my problem,” Roy said. He finished the rest of his tea before placing the cup upside-down in the snow like the other. “My mission from the High Council is to find the necromancer responsible for performing the Soul Magic that their Seer felt and to detain them.”

“And if I refuse?” A determined fire danced in those golden eyes. Oh, if only they had met under different circumstances. Roy would have love to see all the different expressions they could make.

But it was not meant to be.

“If you refuse,” Roy said without inflection, “you die.”

The boy stared for a long moment before looking down, his golden lashes just visible in the darkening light. “That’s a shame.”

“Quite,” Roy said, relief at the boy’s seeming surrender making him a little light headed. Yes, magic brought its own cost to the Cursed, but he didn’t fancy a fight with the teen in any case. He’s not sure it was one he could win. Not if past experience had anything to say about it. “I’m glad you see it my way.”

“It’s a shame,” the boy repeated, “that you’ll have to fail your mission.”

Roy frowned, the words not quite making sense to his ears. The whole world felt a little foggy. “What?”

“You were right to be wary of your drink,” the teen said as he tipped to the side. No, wait… that was Roy. _Roy_ was tipping sideways into the snow. “I may not have magic at my disposal, but I can still brew a sleeping potion.”

_Sleeping potion?_ Roy wanted to ask, but his mouth wouldn’t obey him, nor his eyes as they slid closed and left him to the cold ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, another factoid about this universe: Potions are a thing, but they do not require magic as a component. Potions utilize natural ingredients for 'natural' magic that in no way, shape, or form, antagonizes the Curse. Anyone can make them, though the act is typically dominated by those with low Magic Potential.
> 
> Just thought you'd like to know. :)
> 
> Also, next update will be next Thursday, followed by either a Friday or a Monday after. I've got a busy schedule coming up, unfortunately, but I will do my best to keep updates steady. :) Not long now!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or its characters, only the idea for this fic.
> 
> PS - Coming up on the climax guys! Only two more chapters left!
> 
> Again, next week's update might come on Friday or on the Monday after. We'll just have to see.

Ed scoffed as he stood and tapped out his pot. “Good thing he didn’t insist on some stew. It’d have neutralized the potion if he did.”

Bowl cleaned, he did the same to the mug he’d offered the Council dog and turned to his fire. He had extra Flame Stones on hand in case any burned out, but he wanted to reuse as many as possible.

He also couldn’t leave a state-licensed Mage to fend off the elements on his own. If the man died, Ed would be hunted down for sure —more so than he was now.

So thinking, he left one Flame Stone close enough to keep the man warm and put the rest away, deactivating them as he did.

“The Mage’s comrades will not appreciate what you’ve done,” the Shinigami said.

“Then we might as well get a head start,” Ed said. He searched the stars for his directions, then took off to the north, leaving the man with his lone light behind.

*             *             *             *             *

It had been two hours since Roy went to speak with the necromancer and he had yet to return. Hawkeye grew worried as more time passed before finally deciding to check in on him.

When she made it to the clearing, there was no necromancer in sight, only the slumped form of her superior. “Sir!”

Dropping to her knees, she felt for a pulse… and found one, slow, steady, as if asleep. Sighing in relief, she then noticed the Flame Stone snuggled up to his chest, keeping him warm. She frowned at it.

The necromancer could have easily killed Roy with his powers, but chose to put him to sleep instead. He also could have left Roy to freeze to death, but instead left him with a Flame Stone, something that was a precious commodity this far North.

More and more things weren’t adding up where this necromancer was concerned.

“Sir.” She shook Roy’s shoulder, trying to rouse him from his induced sleep. “Sir, please wake up.”

“F’ve more min’s…” Roy groaned.

“The necromancer has escaped,” she reported.

He shot up in a mess of flailing limbs. His dark eyes searched the clearing, pupils wide in the darkness. “What?! But… how—?!”

“Sleep potion it looks like.” Hawkeye poked at the snow colored by spilt tea. She picked out a few herbs and gave them a sniff. “Potions and brewing require no magic after all, only the right ingredients.”

“But that… that’s a practice for those low in Magical Potential,” Roy said, examining the dark splash on white. “Why would he…?”

“Perhaps, he doesn’t have much magic to start with?” Hawkeye suggested. “After all, the only times we’ve seen him use it were when there were no other options.”

“And if that’s the case and he has low Potential…” Roy gritted his teeth. “Then he wouldn’t have attempted Soul Magic on his own, not without reason. It’s a certified death sentence for him… maybe that curse-breaker was telling the truth after all.”

“If so, then the one we _really_ need to catch is the one our necromancer is chasing,” Hawkeye stated. “I’m sure if we explain to the Council, this one might get a lighter sentence.”

“If he doesn’t die before then.” Roy let out a frustrated growl and combed his fingers through his hair. “We’re running out of time. Hawkeye, get Fuery on the phone.”

“Fuery, sir?”

“We need to put in a message to the Stronghold of Briggs, asking for a little help.” Roy grimaced. “If _she_ will allow it.”

*             *             *             *             *

“To what do I owe this late night call?” Olivier asked, glaring at the image before her.

“First-star Roy Mustang is tracking a necromancer across the Northern plains,” Fuery reported. “He requests aid in apprehending him.”

“Hmph, why should I care what you Centralers do?” She scowled. “I only watch out for those here at Briggs Solitude. Give me one good reason to help with any plot of Mustang’s.”

“There is reason to believe that the necromancer is tracking another of his kind; one that has similarities to that of the Crimson Mage,” Fuery said.

Crimson Mage? The one spoken of nearly two decades ago, when she was but a child learning the sword? The one that had slaughtered whole _towns_ and never seemed to stay dead?

The one who had killed her own brother? Who had left his Curse-Marked body in the town square for all to see?

She gritted her teeth against the rage. “What is it that Mustang has planned?”

“Well, first…”

*             *             *             *             *

Another day of travel, another day closer to his goal and another day closer to death. Ed’s eyes burned due to his lack of sleep. Walking through the night hadn’t been the best idea, but it had put distance between the Mage and him.

At least, he hoped so.

His last check had placed the _bastard_ at the same location he had been in since day break. At first, Ed thought it may have been a camp, but it was slowly looking like it was a more permanent position. If things continued, he might just make it to the other’s location the next morning. He really hoped so. He was down to his last teleport stone, which he held back just in case the _bastard_ decided to make a sudden move in position.

A small voice just hoped the stillness of the Scry gem didn’t mean he’d find a body instead of the other necromancer. Ed’s not sure he could put Al’s soul back into a body that’s been dead for however long it took to find.

No use in worrying now, though. He still had to get there first.

He would have to stop soon, if only to eat and replenish his energy reserves. His feet stumbled to a stop at the thought, numb and clumsy. He should probably warm up again too.

He had just set out to carving out a small place under a tree, when the Shinigami spoke. “To your six.”

Ed whirled around, eyes scanning the horizon. He cursed when he saw two dark shapes cresting the hill he had climbed not twenty minutes ago. They seemed to be making good headway, following in the path he had already stomped through.

Not for the first time, he cursed the snow.

_“Who is it, Edward?”_

“No one, Brother,” Ed said as he turned to continue on despite his numb fingers.

“They appear to be separating,” the Shinigami noted. Curious, Ed looked back. The shorter of the two was indeed breaking off from the other, racing ahead. The larger figure remained standing in the sunlight, a gun in hand.

Ah, it was probably that markswoman from before. Hadn’t the Mage said he’d brought her?

“I believe they might try to talk again,” the Shinigami said.

“That doesn’t mean I want to talk to them,” Ed grumbled.

“But you were planning to stop anyway, were you not?” the Shinigami asked. “If you listen, you will have time to rest without being hunted. Then you can get away again.”

“Pretty sure the same trick won’t work twice.” Ed rolled his eyes, but it was getting dark and the cold had set in his bones. He needed to stop and at least warm his hands and feet before continuing.

So he finished carving out a spot and set the Flame Stones to work. His nook was warm and dinner cooking by the time the Mage made it his way.

“Thanks for waiting on me!” The dark-haired boy grinned amiably. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“I’m not,” Ed growled, huddled over in his cloak. “I’m warming up and then heading out again. You have no factor in it.”

“Shame, and here I thought we were becoming good friends!” The Mage sat down across from him. “Sleeping potion incident aside.”

Ed scoffed and looked away. A gasp made him turn back, frowning at the Mage’s wide-eyed look. Where was he…?

Ed slapped a hand over his neck. Had it gotten that far? Had the Curse grown even stronger? Ed had no way to tell. He didn’t have a mirror on hand and didn’t feel like undressing to check the progress further down his body.

He was starting to question the intelligence of his decision now.

The Council dog opened his mouth, as if to speak, then thought better of it. His dark eyes trained themselves on Ed, looking just as haunting as the night before. Then he spoke, though not with words Ed had anticipated. “So, I don’t think I’ve properly introduced myself. First-Star Roy Mustang.”

He held out a hand, one that Ed looked over warily before reaching out with numb fingers. “Edward Elric.”

“Necromancer?” Roy jokingly teased.

“No,” Ed said stubbornly as he retrieved his hand. “Not by choice.”

“The man you’re chasing, right?”

That made Ed sit up and glare at the other teen. “How do you know that?”

“I found a friend of yours.” Roy shrugged. “A little curse-breaker from your home town?”

“Winry…” Ed breathed, realizing what this could mean for her. “She had nothing to do with this. She’s innocent.”

“Not entirely true, since I found her and her mentor attempting to bury a body back at your home.”

Body…? Oh, right. “Dad. I forgot about him.”

“You father?” Roy’s eyebrows rose. “You forgot there was a dead body on the floor of your living room? Your father’s body?”

“I had more important things going on!” Ed defended guiltily. “I have a deadline here, okay? I wasn’t in the best mindset when I left…”

Roy shifted his knees. “So, what is the story with him?”

“Dropped me off with Brother when I was two and then disappeared for 14 years.” Ed shrugged. “Only showed up again when _that bastard_ forced Brother’s soul from his body. Apparently, Dad had trapped that other soul with him all those years ago. The man, he called it a demon, had killed my mother right before. Dad bound them together to keep my mother’s body safe, or so he said. He had hoped the Curse would take them both, but the demon escaped into Brother’s body before the old man kicked the bucket.”

“Fourteen years ago…” Roy grew thoughtful. “That would have been around the last sighting of the Crimson Mage.”

“The… what?” Ed’s nose wrinkled in confusion.

“The Crimson Mage,” Roy reiterated. “A man, or we think so at least, that would perform all sorts of illegal Magic and cause massive bloodshed wherever he went. Every time the Curse would draw near completion, he would use Soul Magic to flee to a new body and the whole cycle would start over again. Many a great Mage has fallen to him.”

Ed shivered. “Someone like that… actually exists?”

“Indeed. After the last body turned up, the High Council had thought his reign of terror was over. Now…” Roy shook his head. “I’m not so sure.”

“You think… that bastard, the one that took Brother’s body… you think it’s him?” Ed felt a cold chill go up his spine at Roy’s sorrowful look.

He wasn’t prepared for this. He had two days left at most, maybe less than one. His spells took too long to cast and he’d use up the last of his time before he could make one with enough damage to count. And he couldn’t hurt Al’s body, he just couldn’t.

How was he supposed to fight the echo of a decade’s old murderer? What could he possibly do to defend against that?

“We have no way of knowing for sure,” Roy said slowly. “The Crimson Mage was never caught and we have had several copycats throughout the years, though nowhere near as damaging. It’s only a possibility, but if what you’ve told me is true…”

“Straight from my father’s mouth.” Ed felt himself saying.

“Then there is a big possibility that the man you’re chasing is, indeed, Solf J. Kimblee, the Crimson Mage,” Roy paused, probably assessing Ed’s hunched shoulders. “But this may be a factor in our favor.”

Ed’s head shot up, eyebrows furrowed. “How is finding a _serial killer_ a factor in our favor?”

“The High Council sent me to find the source of the Soul Magic,” Roy stated. “They don’t know that there were two spells cast that day. If I were to take him into custody instead, you would be free to go.”

“You really think someone like that is going to go along willingly?” Ed asked, face dubious.

“Do you think the Council will care if he’s alive or not?” Roy fired back.

Ed glared. “You can’t hurt him. He’s got Brother’s body.”

“Ah, but if his soul were forced from his body and your reaper friend was on standby…?” Roy trailed off with a glint in his eyes.

“You’re… you’re telling me to use _Soul Magic_ to kill the Crimson Mage,” Ed stated, just to hear how ridiculous that sounded. “Won’t the Council feel the shock of that magic?”

“I can always tell them I interrupted before the magic was complete.” Roy shrugged. “They won’t have anyone on site other than myself and Hawkeye and we’d never tell.”

Ed grew quiet, thinking. “And… if I happened to put Brother’s soul back…?”

“As I said, Hawkeye and I would never tell.” Roy’s smile was a dangerous thing, playing against his lips. “It’s a win-win situation, isn’t it?”

“For you maybe.” Ed scoffed. “How am I even going to fight him in this barren wasteland? I’ll have to find him first, and get a circle drawn before he catches wind of my plan. Soul Magic requires a circle around the body, something I can’t carry with me. And with the length of my spell…”

“Hmm… that is a problem…” Roy leaned back, gaze dropped to his toes in thought. “I have a friend who could help with the circle, but luring the man there would be a problem…”

They lapsed into silence, ideas bouncing around in their heads. Ed thought up and discarded so many ideas it was making his head hurt. What could they use to lure a serial killer to a trap? What would be a strong enough incentive to a murderer?

His father’s words came unbidden to his mind.

_“A beast follows the trail of bloody prey.”_

Ed repeated the words out loud. Roy looked up, a confused look on his face. Ed shrugged. “It’s what my dad said. Before he… He said the man lives for the pain of others, nothing but a beast looking to hurt and kill.”

“I don’t think a trail of blood will work in this case.” Roy raised one eyebrow.

“Maybe it’s not literal?” Ed bit at his lower lip, twining his fingers together as he put his brain to use. “I’ve been wondering since before… why did Dad come home that day? He’d kept away from us for fourteen years and planned to die alone in the wilderness. But he came home instead and the bastard, Kimblee, used that moment to strike.”

“Maybe he felt his time was near?” Roy asked. “When men are to die, they hold onto those they cared most about.”

“Or… he wasn’t in full control of his body.” Ed frowned at his fingers. “What if Kimblee forced my father home in order to attack one of us? And he chose Brother to be his new host? What if he has some other method of choosing hosts other than at random?”

“That… would make far too much sense.” Roy pressed his hand to his chin. “All of his previous victims had high Potential, something that would grant him a long deadline, no matter how many illegal spells he cast. It all seemed to be coincidental, but perhaps there’s more to the story… But how does that help us?”

“If he’s got an affinity for Soul Magic, like… like me, then he’s got to have some other effect.” Ed looked up, hesitant. “I can see the souls of newly dead and Shinigamis in charge of them. What if he can sense them before that? What if he can sense the Potential a person has based on that? One of the First Mages once said that the soul was the greatest magic of all.”

“So, for a beast that trails wounded prey…” Roy’s eyes grew wider as he made the connection. “A dying soul is the greatest bait.”

“Guess this Curse can actually be good for something, huh?” Ed offered a shaky smile to the older teen.

“Very good!” Roy agreed, getting to his feet. “I’ll have to tell Hawkeye immediately! Then we can set up a location for the trap. Of course, we can’t go with you. If your theory proves correct, he’d feel us and his guard would be up…”

Ed listened as Roy continued to talk, but the words started to flow from one ear to the other.

Was he really doing this? Was he really standing up to a murderer when he was already on the brink of death himself? Would this plan actually work?

“ _Edward, I don’t like this,”_ Al whispered from his jar. He had been growing quieter with each day separated from his body. It scared Ed enough to press on despite his doubts.

“I know Brother.” Ed patted at the flask. “I know.”

“Do you need someone to keep watch for you?” Roy asked suddenly, looking down from where he’d been standing at the beginning of the trail through the snow. “You didn’t get much sleep last night, right? I bet you’re tired.”

“Thanks, but, no thanks. I’ve got it.” Ed looked over to the Shinigami would watched with interest. “I don’t think I could sleep with you here anyway.”

“Because I’m too dashingly good looking?”

Ed barked a bitter laugh, the first in many days and possibly his last. “Something like that.”

Roy nodded. “I’ll leave a message for you when we determine the location for the trap. Have you a map?”

“Yeah.” Ed patted his bag. “Just give me coordinates and I’ll make do.”

Roy nodded again and took off down the trail towards where his companion was waiting.

Ed stared after him and heaved a sigh.

One more night and all this would be over.

One more night and Al would have his body back and Ed…

Ed would have a job well done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guys feel the tension in the air? Or did I make Ed too resigned? I really can't decide when I re-read this for errors.
> 
> Again, next week's update might come on Friday or on the Monday after. We'll just have to see.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or its characters, only this idea for this fic.
> 
> PS - Made it on Monday! Meaning that the next update should be Friday this week!
> 
> Also, I've been hit with a cold and took the day off work, which is why you're getting this so early. So... Yay?

_Less than a day left, little necromancer. Are you ready to pay the price?_

*             *             *             *             *

Ed woke up alone, or rather, without another human in sight.

“The two were here just before sunrise,” the Shinigami said, nodding his head to a snow wall that Ed had constructed the night before. “He left a message.”

Ed turned to give the wall a look. There were lines carved into it, slightly melted from being so close to the Flame Stones, but still legible. He got the gist of it.

A plan was in place.

“Okay, Scarface,” Ed said, getting to his feet. “A quick breakfast and then on the road again.”

Ed dug through his bag for whatever was left and managed to scrounge up some oatmeal. No flavoring or anything, but it would have to do. As he melted water down from the snow, he caught a glimpse of his reflection.

The image was murky, hard to see clearly, but he could still make out the Curse. A dark band started to the right of his collar bone and ran the length of his neck to just above his left shoulder.

The Curse was to his neck.

He had only hours left, Ed knew without a curse-breaker telling him. Even he could see that.

“Let’s hope we make it,” he muttered to himself as he poured the oat flakes into the hot water. Not much of a last meal.

_“Make it to what?”_  Al asked.

“The place Roy pointed out,” Ed replied. “He’s got a plan but we have to get there before the guy who took your body finds us.”

Al was silent for a moment before saying, quietly. “ _Are we sure he’ll even look_?”

Ed’s spoon scraped the bottom of his bowl. “What?”

“ _What if he teleports away_?” Al asked. “ _What if he sees us coming? What if—?!”_

“If the world subsisted on ‘what ifs’, the First Mages would never have figured out magic in its purest form,” Ed said as he did his best to clean the bowl in the snow. “Isn’t that what you always told me, Brother?”

“ _I’m just thinking that… it might be better to stop,”_ Al said lowly. _“He has my body and you’re down to a couple days, maybe less. Maybe you should go back home, with our friends, instead of dying in the snow.”_

“If I’m going to die either way, I’m going to do it saving you,” Ed said harshly as he gathered all his things. “This isn’t up for discussion, Brother.”

_“Hey! I’m the older brother! I should get a say!”_

“Try that again when you’re not a soul trapped in a jar,” Ed ordered. Ignoring Al’s further protests, Ed turned to the Shinigami. “The sun isn’t out yet, so I can’t tell. Do you know which way is North?”

The Shinigami pointed.

*             *             *             *             *

Olivier watched as her Scryer’s crystal etched a very slow trek on the map. She shivered, but whether it was the sudden gust of wind or in anticipation, she didn’t know. “Are you sure he’s going to make it?”

“No,” Roy answered truthfully. “But he will die trying.”

“Hmm…” she looked out over the large expanse of white. “One less problem for us then.”

Roy’s jaw tightened, but he offered no other words. Another gust blew past. The clouds promised snow.

*             *             *             *             *

It had been hours since the storm started up, but he wasn’t there yet.

His feet ached, little pins and needles racing up his calves. His fingers were blue where they were pressed into his armpits. His breath escaped in tiny wisps.

A harsh wind blew him over.

He lay for a second before digging his hands into the snow.

_Not there yet_.

He pushed himself back to his feet, unsteady as they were, and put one foot in front of the other.

_Not there yet._

Was he even going the right way anymore? The storm had come suddenly, bringing blankets of snow with it. His own footprints disappeared in a matter of minutes. He had no idea which way was north.

_Not there yet._

Had he reached it? Had he passed it? Had he missed it entirely?

Did he have enough time to double back if needed? Was he already out of time?

_Not there yet._

He kept moving.

It was all he could do.

*             *             *             *             *

He felt the souls of Briggs on the move, the one stronghold to survive so far north. He felt the warmth of those souls, little sparks of life and grinned to himself.

Oh how delicious it would be to extinguish them all, to feel the spark flicker and die as their blood spilled out onto the freshly fallen snow.

It would be a good way, he decided, to celebrate his resurrection and freedom. A good way indeed.

_“The cold wind doth blow, across the blinding white snow,”_ wind picked up around him and he grinned as his body felt weightless. “ _Take me where you go.”_

And then he was in the air, flying above the storm brewing in the atmosphere.

He _loved_ the Potential in this body. A spell so short and simple really was the best. He could get used to the ease of such spell casting —which he would, given this was his body now.

As he said the words to send him skywards, he felt another spark, far away from the others. This one, felt familiar, on he’d seen within the last few days. Who had…?

Ah yes, that little necromancer, the brother to the body he stole. Had he really tracked him all the way out here?

The kid had guts. And stupidity, but he could admire that will.

That spark was already wavering, dulled, no doubt, by the Curse the necromancer had inflicted himself with. It would be a pity to miss the kid’s final moments, to not see that face of despair, knowing he had come so close, only to fail.

He decided, then, to find the kid first and, once he’d breathed his last breath, find those monks of Briggs and lay waste to the lot of them.

He was finding this day more and more enjoyable.

*             *             *             *             *

He was sure he had missed the place written in the snow when a voice called out to him from above.

Above?

“Hello there, little necromancer,” his brother’s voice called. “It seems you’ve come a long way. Here to see little ole’ me?”

Golden eyes turned skywards, blinking dumbly form the cold.

“Oh, no reply?” the voice mocked as the figure drifted down to cover only a few feet above Ed. “Has the cold frozen your mouth shut?”

“Y-y-you,” Ed stuttered, his teeth clacking against his will. His spine gave a full-body shiver, his diaphragm spasming in response. “G-g-g-give ‘m b-bb-b’k!”

“I don’t think so, kid. I like this body.” Al’s body held out a hand, twisting it this way and that in admiration. “It’s chock full of Potential. Even if I do cast a forbidden spell, I’m sure it will last 80 years _at least_ before I need to find a replacement! It’s a little ridiculous to be honest.”

“G-g-give ‘m!” Ed ordered through the trembles. His hand reached out, as if to force the other to obey. Al’s body kicked him down instead.

“I told you, kid, that’s a no go,” the monster replied, hovering lowly so he could drag Ed up by his hair. “Besides, that Curse don’t look too good. You’ve only got an hour or two left. Why waste it fighting, yeah?”

Ed’s hands sunk into the snow… and found something there.

“I mean, you could have done what I did, find another unlucky soul to take your place, but now you’re out in the middle of nowhere.” Al’s hand let him go, Ed collapsing without support. “So give up. Feel the despair and spend your last hours crying your eyes out.”

“A few hours is all I need,” Ed whispered into the snow.

“What was that?” the monster asked. “Speak up, kid. Your voice sounds like it’s on death’s door!”

“Two hours…” Ed said, voice growing in strength as his shivers subsided. His eyes blinked tiredly, but with a steely gaze. _“I think you will find that is enough time.”_

Al’s eyes stared at him, then the monster laughed. “Is that so? You think you’ve got enough time to draw up a circle and spit an incantation, boy? From what I recall, you’ve got a long one. I figure you might just die in the middle.”

“ _Rue, had I even just one hour less_ …” Ed struggled to his knees, hair still in the other’s grasp. “ _I would have not the power left to rhyme… And you would find yourself free of this mess.”_

The monster frowned. “Wait a minute…”

_“But rue to you, I have that hour more.”_ Ed glared from beneath his disheveled bangs and watched with satisfaction as the man’s eyes widened with realization. “ _And in my circle, you find yourself trap’d_.”

“What?! There’s no-!” the man let out a pained yelp as a circle of gold encompassed him. The glow melted the snow down to a layer of metal that stretched out several feet, assuring his capture. Ed’s palms burned where they touched the metal.

“You tricked me! I can’t believe you tricked me!” the man shouted as he leapt into the air, his spell form earlier still active. “Well, sucks for you because I’m not caught yet!”

He turned to fly up.

“ _So I cast you down from on high you soar,”_ Ed said sharply, wincing when the body dropped to the ground. It was a delicate balance to keep his brother’s body safe, but keep the monster contained. _“To that body, your tie has been snapped.”_

*             *             *             *             *

He felt his hold on this body grow tentative, the bond unraveling as the boy spoke. He never should have let the brat live! He should have killed him when he had the chance!

And he would. He would dash that boy’s hopes if it was the last thing he did! He swore it!

The boy was trapped outside this circle, hands clasped onto the burning metal. He couldn’t get to the boy physically, but a spell would work just as well. His incantation made him an even easier target, as that building power was ripe for the taking.

_“The cold wind doth blow-!”_ he started, the cadence of this body’s spells so simple. He felt the power balance shift towards him, swayed by his own spell.

_“–your taint from heart glow!”_ the boy shouted over him and in an instant, his power was sapped.

_Shit_! How could he forget?! The boy had sealed a soul too! He had the Curse mark! He could steal spells just like him!

_ “Shed that skin of yours, it heeds another.” _

He let out a scream as his soul was ripped from the body, like a snake shedding its skin. No! No! He can’t be out of the running yet! He had to get back into it!

_“Prepare yourself for the one final blow.”_ A flask, its lid broken free. A bright light from within and he found himself face to face with steely gold eyes, the likes of which he had grown used to over the last few days. Oh no. “ _From the spirit you had torn asunder…”_

A fist collided with his face, casting him out of the circle.

“You deserve far more than that!” the original spirit said through clenched teeth. “But I’ll let Death decide your fate. Isn’t that right, my friend?”

He turned to the one addressed and cowered back. A _Shinigami_? The boy had a _Shinigami_ on his side? Kimblee had been fleeing them ever since his first Swap. He turned, trying to escape once more, but the scythe was too quick. His soul was torn and he knew no more.

*             *             *             *             *

Al looked down to his brother as the spirit of the madman ceased to be. “It’s okay, Ed. He’s gone. Finish it.”

_“And then let that flesh that has been shed here_ ,” Ed said quietly, the force leaving with his anger. “ _Find its rightful bond in the soul found clear.”_

Al felt his body pull him down, felt his skin close over him in a way that was _right_ when the world hasn’t been for days. He took a deep breath —he could breathe! —and he was back.

He opened his eyes in wonder, raised a hand to his face.

Ed did it. He really did it!

“Edward, you did it!” Al sat up, smile bright on his face. “You did —Ed?”

His little brother lay in a crumpled hear in the snow, still where he had fallen.

“Edward!” Alphonse hurried over, skidding in the snow as he did so. His hands hovered uncertainly before gathering his brother up and turning him over. “Oh… _Ed!_ ”

The damage was obvious. The Curse had used up the last of his brother’s magic and with it, his life. In a matter of moments, he would be dead.

“B-Brother?” Ed rasped, eyes unseeing. “Did… did it work?”

Al’s tongue felt too thick. His eyes burned. “Yeah.” He swallowed. “It did, Ed.”

Why?

“Good. ‘M gl’d,” Ed slurred, mouth slowing with his heart beat. “Fix’d i’.”

Why him? Why Ed? Why did Ed always, _always_ get the short end of the stick?

“Y-yeah,” Al’s voice warbled, trying to hold his sobs back, to be strong for his brother, one last time. “You fixed me. Good job.”

“M’na s’eep now.”

“You… you can do that,” Al choked. “You earned it.”

Ed’s eyes closed and with one final breath, he stopped.

“Ed?” Al called. No response. “Ed?!”

Silence. A barren white landscape with nothing but silence.

Al let out an agonized cry as he doubled over his brother, tears hot on his face before they froze on his skin.

No.

No, no, no!

Ed deserved better than this! He deserved a full life! Not to lose his for Al’s mistake! If anything, _Al_ was the one that-!

That should be in Ed’s place.

Brown eyes shot open, with sudden realization.

He could do it. He could reverse this. He could _fix_ this!

And it would cost Al so little in comparison.

_“Bleak winter coming…”_ The circle heated again, glowing around them. Al caught sight of a dark, cloaked figure just outside the ring.

_“My brother asleep in snow…”_ The circle pulsed, an image above them becoming clear. Ed hovered, eyes blank and form translucent, nearly gone.

_“Make his debt my own…”_ The circle pulsed once more and Al’s vision turned white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to know, did anyone else feel like that was anti-climatic? I was having a hard time balancing the action happening and Ed's spellwork in a good cadence, so I'm not too sure.
> 
> We have one more chapter left here, then I'll put a copy of all the poems I wrote in order for them to work their spells.
> 
> And I shall see you this Friday for an update! Or Thursday... It all depends on how my life goes.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or its characters, only the idea for this fic.
> 
> PS - Finally done! :D And a bit of an early update.
> 
> I'm still planning to put the full poems/spells in another chapter for those who wanted to see them, but this story has come to an end. Thank you to those who stuck with me! :)

_“Welcome back, little necromancer.” The being from before grinned at him, all teeth on display. “I see your time has come. Ready to pay the price?”_

_“No,” Ed answered truthfully as he looked down at his feet. A large, ornate circle surrounded them. Dark marks curled to and fro with sharp lines cutting them into sections. He realized with sudden clarity that it was the Curse, laid out in its entirety._

_Human transmutation… a quiet voice whispered, but the words meant nothing to him._

_“Oh, come now. I can make your next life better, yeah?” the being jibed. “Is there something you want? How about more magic? It would have saved you this time.”_

_“I don’t want to have to use it. I don’t want any more of my people, my friends and family, to get hurt.” Ed whispered as he watched the circle tighten around them. The marks seeped up his feet to his ankles and calves. “I don’t want my brother to get killed again, not because of anything I do. I want to be the only one to feel the pain.”_

_“That can be arranged,” the being said. Black ink was up to his thighs now, the marks spreading higher and higher. “Ultimate power, but the price is that which is most precious to you. That way, only you will suffer.”_

_That… something didn’t seem right about that, but the marks were to his hips now and crawling ever higher. So Ed could only nod and accept the being’s offer._

_Then, a pulse of gold and the marks halted._

_“Wait!”_

_There was a voice. Ed knew that voice._

_Alphonse appeared before him, standing between Ed and the being. Ed frowned. “Brother?”_

_“I want to take his place!” Alphonse bargained. “I have more magic! I can take it!”_

_“This isn’t a point where we can trade,” the being said. “The transaction is done.”_

_“Then I want to buy his soul back,” Alphonse insisted. “I want it back in his body. I’m willing to be Cursed for that!”_

_“Brother, no!” Ed’s voice cracked. What was Alphonse thinking?! “I just got you back—!”_

_“And I just lost you!” Al’s expression brokered no argument. “I’m not about to back down without trying, not when you didn’t.”_

_“Brother…” Ed whispered. If he was on the mortal plane, he had no doubt his eyes would hold tears._

_The being watched in silence before laughing. “You brothers never cease to amaze me. Always running around trying to save each other when, in reality, if you didn’t, the world would be a much different place. Even when I make the clearheaded one older, you still get into trouble. Perhaps I should separate you two?”_

_“What are you talking about?” Ed asked, brow furrowed._

_“Oh, just something you’ll know when your actual time comes.” The being waved him off._

_“When…?” Al’s eyes widened. “So, that means?!”_

_“Take your brother back with you.” The being leaned back on its hands and propped one foot on the other. “Enjoy the years you have left.”_

_“Do you know how long…?” Al asked as the black marks bled down Ed’s body._

_“70 years, 80? Does it matter?” The being shrugged flippantly, that annoying grin still on its face. “I have all the time in the world to wait and the End is still far off. I’m in no hurry. Everything will happen the way it was always meant to.”_

_‘But what does that mean?’ Al wanted to asked, but the white expanse brightened to blinding and—!_

They found themselves back in the snow.

Al groaned as he sat up, back hurting from the way he’d been hunched. A second groan echoed him. “Edward? Ed!”

“Ow!” Ed complained. “Brother, I’m fine! Just tired…”

“No, you’re hypothermic is what you are!” Al lectured. “This is why I told you to take breaks! Where are your Flame Stones?”

“Bag, small front pocket,” Ed slurred, blinking his eyes languidly. He watched Al set to work, then laughed, relieved despite his conditions. “Can you imagine? Getting resurrected just to die from the cold.”

“You aren’t going to die, drama queen,” Al huffed as he dug out a small pit for them. He had to dig deep to find ground, but the Flame Stones were lit and heat started to rise. “Okay, I’ve got the first going and —Ed?”

Ed jerked from where he’d been staring out, just past the circle. “What? Sorry.”

“What is it?” Al asked before remembering. “Is it the Shinigami?”

“Yeah.” Ed frowned. “I wonder if he still wants my soul. He said he was gonna reap it.”

Al felt fire fill his veins. He looked out to where Ed stared, but he could see nothing. His voice was loud enough to carry when he spoke. “Well, he’s not allowed to take it. I traded fair and square!”

“What am I, a bag of meat?” Ed laughed, then hissed as the heat started to get to his fingers. “Well, _that’s_ not pleasant.”

“Let me see.” Al held out his hand and cringed at his brother’s fingers. Absolutely blue. If they didn’t get help, he’d lose them. He could still those them to infection.

It was worth the price.

_“By the light of sun, Mother Earth, I beg of you,”_ Al whispered over his brother’s knuckles. “ _Steal away the ice._ ”

Ed gasped as his fingers grew pink again… then punched Al in the nose.

“Oww!”

“What are you thinking?!” Ed demanded, getting to his feet. “The more magic you use, the less time you’ll have left! Don’t waste it on trivial things!”

“You aren’t trivial.” Al pouted, rubbing his nose. “Besides! I’ve got eighty _years_ , not eighty _days_! That’s more than enough to spend on things like hearing you.”

Ed grimaced. “I don’t like it.”

“Well, too bad. You’re stuck with me.” Al stuck his tongue out, then he realized. “Literally. I think we’ll die at about the same time now… oh my gosh!”

Ed jolted at the sudden exclamation. “What is it, Brother?”

“I have so many things to fit into 80 years!” Al pulled at his hair. “I’ve never gone sky diving! Or to the Isle of Manchet! Or milked a cow! Or—!”

“I get it,” Ed groaned and sat down closer to the fire. “You have things you want to do. Why not just do them?”

Al stared at him for a long minute. “I’m making a list.”

“What, like a bucket list?” Ed asked, frowning.

“Exactly like that!” Al pointed at him. “And you’re helping me check things off.”

Ed shrugged. “Sure, sounds fun.”

“Great, because first on our list is a trip around the world!” Al got to his feet and dragged Ed up with him.

“What, _now_?!” Ed sputtered.

“No time like the present!”

“You’ve got 80 years, Brother!”

“Yeah, _only_ 80 years!” Al put a hand over his heart in wonder. “Is this what a mid-life crisis feels like?”

“You aren’t middle aged!” Ed threw his hands up. “And we should at least _plot a course_ for a world trip! Working with a deadline doesn’t mean you can be stupid about it.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to agree with Edward on that one, Mr. Elric.” A third voice joined them. The two brothers turned as one to face Roy Mustang and several dozen of the Briggs Monkhood. “You are Alphonse Elric, right?”

“And you are First Star Rou Mustang and lead Monk, Olivier.” Alphonse greeted as Ed stepped behind him. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

“Just came by to make sure the other necromancer has been dealt with.” Roy looked over the area. “I don’t see a body, but then, he didn’t have one, did he?”

“Not one that wasn’t stole,” Al agreed.

“As I thought.” Roy turned his gaze to Ed. “And you? How much longer do you have?”

“Oh, I’d say about 80 years or so,” Al answered for him as he slung an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Turns out, reversing the spell that gives you the Curse in the first place undoes it.”

Olivier gave him a dubious look. “You’re kidding. There’s no record of this.”

“Is there a record of any necromancer ever reversing a spell?” Al raised an eyebrow. When Olivier and Roy exchanged looks, he knew he’d won. “Well, since there’s no Curse and the necromancer has been dispatched, I assume we’re free to go?”

“I’d like to take statements,” Roy answered. “And maybe figure out what that necromancer was doing all the way up here…”

“He was flying a search pattern,” Ed reported. “When I would Scry for him, the placement of the crystal led to a search grid. There must be something out here he was looking for. I can mark the map for where he stayed the longest if it’s any help.”

“I’ll have some of my men take a look,” Olivier said before Roy could ask. “If it’s something _he_ wanted, it can’t be any good.”

“I agree.” Roy nodded. “Thank you for that, Olivier. If you could send word when you find it?”

“You’ll be the first to know apart from me.” Olivier turned away and motioned to her men. “All right! Back to the fortress! No lolly-gagging!”

“Sir!”

Al watched the others fall in and march away, when a voice behind him drew his attention.

“So, where do you think you’ll be going after this?” Roy asked, voice smooth and low as he watched Ed shuffle his feet.

“Don’t know.” Ed shrugged. “Brother’s got the idea of a world trip stuck in his head, so probably do that for a while. Don’t know how long.”

“I see…” Roy’s brow furrowed. “Would you mind if I wrote to you?”

“Um…” Ed’s face reddened.

“Just to hear of you travels.” Roy smiled. “I’ve never been outside of Amestria.”

“Um…” Ed looked unsure, but a small smile curled at the edge of his lips. “Sure. I don’t mind. I don’t know about receiving letters, since it sounds like we’re going to be hopping countries a lot, but I don’t mind sending some your way.”

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Roy said, a look in his eyes that Al needed to set straight right away.

“Mr. Mustang!” Al called cheerfully, using his younger appearance to his favor. “A quick word, if you don’t mind?”

Roy looked up and nodded, allowing Al to draw them away from Ed so they could talk.

“I’ll be reading his letters.” Al stated, apropos of nothing.

“Excuse me?”

“His letters, any that you send to him. I’ll be reading them.” Al smiled brightly. “First-Star Mustang, you are a Mage who is over fifty and looks 17. My brother is 16 and _looks_ 16\. You will treat him with the utmost respect he deserves. So I won’t be seeing any indecent writing in his letters from you, now will I?”

Roy paled, but nodded immediately. He knew better than to mess with overprotective brothers —especially ones that have been around longer than him.

“Good!” Al patted his shoulder before leading them back to Ed. “Edward! Roy has offered to transport us back home as thanks for all your hard work.”

Ed gave him a very unimpressed look. “You had to walk away to discuss that? Brother, I think you’re losing it.”

“It’s good, it’s good!” Al laughed to the backdrop of his brother’s grumbling.

And it was. Ed was safe. Al had his body back. They both had a long future ahead of them, even if Al’s was a little shorter than he’d first thought.

Life was good.

*             *             *             *             *

The Shinigami watched the two brothers leave with their escort and felt a sort of peace envelope him.

He could have taken the younger’s soul. It was his duty and his right. The opportunity was there, when the circle had fallen dark and the older had not yet realized his own part to play. The Shinigami could have ended young Edward Elric’s life right then and there and Alphonse Elric wouldn’t have been able to stop him.

But he held back.

He held back while the brother called his spell. He held back when the circle worked its magic. He held back until it was too late and the boy’s soul was firmly out of his reach.

And he did not once, feel the pressing need to curb the soul’s mournful cry.

_“You have hesitated, oh being of no name._ ” A voice whispered in his ear. There was a light beside him, one that hurt to look at, and yet he couldn’t keep his eyes away. “ _Tell me, why did you let that boy go? Was he not the one that cast the Soul Magic and tainted his own being? Who trapped another against their will? Why does he still walk free?”_

“He walks free because you let him,” the Shinigami replied. “But I chose not to reap, because he did what he did out of love and protection, not out of any selfish reason. Were I to reap him, I would be taking from the few in the world that act in such a way. The world needs more of those, not less.”

_“Hmm…”_ The light held no form, but he felt as if it were smiling at him. “ _You have learned well, Ishvalan. Your debts have been paid.”_

His debts? The Shinigami’s eyes widened. Could it be…? After all this time…?

The world warped around him, opening a gateway beside the light. The doors creaked open, and the Shinigami’s eyes fell upon another man, thin in stature, with hair white as snow and eyes red as blood. The Shinigami couldn’t remember ever seeing the man before, but he knew him all the same. “ _Brother…”_

_“Come now, Little Brother.”_ The man held out a hand, eyes bright behind his glasses. “ _It’s time to come home. It’s time to rest.”_

The Shinigami took his hand and passed through the gateway.

The doors closed behind them.

A pair of golden eyes watched with intent before they turned away at a call of the owner’s name.

*             *             *             *             *

“Okay!” Al clapped his hands to rid them of dust. “That’s the last of it.”

“It’s pretty amazing…” Ed noted as he looked around their basement area. It was filled to the brim with old volumes and scrolls, each filled to the last inch with spells and research.

“It really is. To think that all of this was just sitting under some old hunting lodge out in the middle of nowhere.” Al put his hands on his hips. “I mean, I know Kimblee was using all this reference material for his murder sprees, but being left out there with any protection? Any old fool could wander in and get themselves in trouble!”

“You’re telling me.” Ed rolled his eyes. He rubbed at his elbow self-consciously. “I’m kind of surprised the High Council let us keep it here. After all, it’s mainly Soul Magic and other prohibited spells, and with my affinity…”

“I’m not surprised.” Al smiled and ruffled Ed’s hair, an effort since Ed was a few inches taller than him. A fact that was changing as Al’s magic diminished, but not very quickly. “We’re Father’s kids, from the lines of the First Mages and Scholars. They wrote the book on things _not_ to do. Who else could they trust it to?”

Ed laughed and batted Al’s hand away. “I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am! That’s why I’m the older one!” Al huffed and started up the stairs. When he didn’t hear Edward immediately following, he paused and turned back. He saw Ed’s worry plain on his face. He sighed and fixed Ed with a stubborn look. “Don’t worry Ed! I’ll be fine! There’s nothing I can’t handle!”

“But what if there is? What if something comes up in our journey and it’s too much for me? Or you’re caught alone?” Ed asked, genuinely concerned. “You won’t be able to use your magic without shortening your life!”

“You don’t use magic at all.” Al pointed out.

“But that’s different!” Ed huffed. “I never had any. You gave it up for me!”

“One of the Mages of old gave up his magic for his brother,” Al reminded him. “That didn’t stop him from becoming a great Scholar or from changing the world everywhere he went. Magic does not make a man, Ed. It’s your heart that does that.”

Ed looked up at his brother for once, eyes questioning.

“And your heart, is a pretty good one.” Al smiled, earning a mirrored one from his brother. “Now! Let’s finish packing! Winry’s already got her stuff ready to bespell the basement closed when we leave, so no thieves can get in. Father’s old wards are coming in handy too.”

“Yeah, all right.” Ed laughed and headed up the stairs after his brother’s elephant steps. He paused at the top, looking down at all the books and tomes and decided that his brother was right. There was no better place for these, than in the hands of a person that knew their price.

With that thought, he turned off the lights and closed the door, ready to start on his brother’s country-hopping adventure.

*             *             *             *             *

_Years and years from then, after the two Elrics had prospered and sought out the wonders of the world and settled again. After heirs of the Scholars had spread throughout the world. After one was cursed with a power too burdensome to share. After a war had been ended with a single word and the magic of the world locked away…_

_The spells and wards that protected the basement of dreadful research were also cast off._

_And years from then, a wandering man, whose loss of his son was a heartbreak that he could not bear, found a little house in the fields. One with a set of books that would take away his suffering and give him his son back._

_All, that is, for a price._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, this is the last 'story' chapter here. Spells to follow soon (next week probably).
> 
> But the series isn't over! I have 4 more installments planned. Two more prequels, one sequel (like, final sequel, even after Golem Lord) and one... sibling story? I guess that's the best word for it. 
> 
> I don't have anything for the first two written yet, but I expect them to be shorter than this one. I have a general idea for the sibling story and like, half of the final installment written. We'll see how long this really takes me. (Given this took 2 years or so, I'm going to say 'a long time'.)
> 
> I hope to see you again! If you're still in this fandom by the time I add new installments.
> 
> Have a good day! :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or its characters, only the idea of this fic.
> 
> PS - And here's the last of it! Poems and some more lore about this installment in the series.

Poems

Hohenheim/Kimblee’s poem in the beginning actually comes as a splice of two different poems. I had the titles written down in my notes so I could give proper credit, but I have since lost those notes (three years and two moves ago), so if anyone recognizes them, please tell me! I think I messed up the formatting so that I could get my sentences to look all right, but the words should be the same. Even Al’s interrupting/counter spell is still part of the original poems.

The idea that Ed’s spell is a long one didn’t actually take into account just how long Kimblee/Hoheheim’s is. So I’ll say that Kimblee had a similar length spell as Ed. Even though later on, he can use Al’s spell length instead of his own, here he elects to use his own.

 

Dear Son, fret naught,

Your kindness shall not be forgot

-ten in the flow of time,

What once was yours

shall now be mine.

For every-! (Al’s interrupting spell)

-atom belonging to me as good belongs to you,

I loafe and invite my soul to thee,

My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air

I, now four hundred-seven years old in perfect health again

Hoping to cease not till death.

And live until another soul stands in my wake.

 

Ed’s chapter 1

Ed’s spell is the typical Shakespearean sonnet, with 14 lines and 10 syllables in each. It took some thinking, but I managed to create my own poems for that, as good or bad as they are.

 

Halt wandering Spirit, leave not this world.

Resist the call for you beyond the veil

Take refuge from the body you were hurled

Remember the line which your magic hails

 

Blame not your father for betraying you

Abandon not your Brother to the field.

Demand the stranger pay his debt and dues

Persecute him until, to you, he yields

 

Entrust to me your will and soul this night (day?)

Ensconce yourself to remain by my side (beside me?)

So we may slay him with our combin’d might

Lest my body for betraying you bleed.

 

I, your Brother, shall be your hands and feet

Until this stranger we have thusly beat.

 

So, the idea that Ed needs a longer length spell comes from the fact that he has very low Magical Potential. And _this_ _fact_ comes from the idea that _Last Necromancer_ is a story following the original _Fullmetal Alchemist (Brotherhood)_ series where Ed gives up his Gate in order to save Al. With no Gate, there is little to no power for his next reincarnation. This changes when it gets to the sequel _Silence._

It should also be mentioned that the ‘Great Scholars’ and ‘Original Mages’ spoken of here are Ed and Al from _Fullmetal Alchemist_. My idea was that they toured around, sharing their knowledge and, once they figured out how they were able to just do the clap thing instead of writing out a whole circle, they passed this on to everyone else. Circle still play a heavy theme in this fic, including Roy’s hand-circle reminiscent of his ‘snap’, Hawkeye’s magical gun barrel is circular (as most are) and the Scry gem is a sphere (circle on all sides). Even if drawing out the symbols and lines are no longer necessary, a circle is needed to contain the magic and direct it.

 

Roy’s Poem

We never got to see his full poem, but I wrote a little something to give reference. I like the idea that, at the end of every line, he could either use up the magic he had conjured thus far, or build it up more and release it after the next line for a bigger effect. His is a little more free-form where syllables count, since fire is pretty chaotic. I still like rhymes, though they aren’t necessarily needed. He has two different starts, but could have endless ones.

 

Flame

Ignite

This world ablaze

In dancing lights

Before my eyes

A wicked grin

Echoing cries

To burn again

 

Burn, ignite

Consume the night

Set the wood alight

 

Ed’s counter spell with Roy

Not sure much needs to be said here. Except maybe that magic battles are common enough that counter spells are not uncommon. Typically, they try to interrupt the other caster’s spell and finish their own before their opponent’s spell ignites, but in the case of Ed, he can interrupt and draw the power _from_ Roy, causing Roy to need to start over, where as a normal battle would have allowed Roy to continue with his spell, regardless of Ed’s own. This power of Ed’s comes from using Soul Magic and the Curse that he’s branded with.

 

 Flames, Ignite this world—! (Roy’s starting spell)

 —in a blaze of lights!”

 “Ruby and amber and orange and gold…”

 …upon these city streets, show your fierce might…

And impress on them the colors of old.”

 

Burn, explode—! (Roy’s counter spell)

—embers fly into the sun.

Give the people a dance of hot uptake.

Show them your will from history unspun.

Let the stone paths burn in your fi’ry wake.

 

 Oh Magick’d Flame, please be my mighty shield…

and only when I have fled, may you yield.

 

Ed’s final battle

 

I think you will find that is enough time.

Rue, had I even just one hour less

I would have not the power left to rhyme

And you would find yourself free of this mess.

 

But rue to you, I have that hour more.

And in my circle, you find yourself trap’d

So I cast you down from on high you soar

To that body your tie has been snapped

 

The cold wind doth blow (Kimblee’s counter spell)

 –your taint from heart glow

Shed that skin of yours, it heeds another

Prepare yourself for the on needed blow.

From the spirit you turned asunder

 

And then let that flesh that has been shed here

Find its rightful bond in the soul found clear.

 

Here, we see the spell that put Al back into his body and shoved Kimblee out of it. Like above with Roy, Ed has the power to steal spells, but so does Kimblee. They have both done Soul Magic, so they both have that ability. At the beginning of the third stanza, Kimblee tries to steal Ed’s spell for himself, but Ed steals it right back, now with the added Potential of Kimblee’s words (from Al’s body/ large Potential).

 

Al’s haikus during final scene(s):

 

(When claiming Ed’s soul back)

Bleak winter coming,

My brother asleep in snow,

Make his debt my own.

 

(When healing Ed’s hands)

By the light of sun,

Mother Earth, I beg of you,

Steal away the ice.

 

Haikus are easy for me. I don’t know why, but they are and I appreciate that. Al’s very short poem comes from the fact that, in _Fullmetal Alchemist (Brotherhood),_ Al opened the Gate, _remembered_ that he opened the Gate and, because Ed gave up his Gate, Al still has all his Alchemy or Magic Potential available to him. I don’t know if it was ever discussed in the show or manga, but they never said he _didn’t_ have his alchemy and, if he did, they it would be equivalent to what Ed had before he gave up his Gate, if not more.

 

And with that, I think that’s all the poems! :) Please let me know if I missed any! If you have any more questions about this universe or the others in this series, please feel free to leave a comment. I’ll do my best to answer. :)

  


**Author's Note:**

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> 
> If you have some critiques, please leave a comment below. I'm always looking to improve my skills, so any little bit helps.
> 
> If you want to leave a comment, but don't know what to say or what I'm looking for in comments, I've put a short outline of what I usually leave on stories in my profile. To find it, click on my pseudonym and then on the Profile tab.


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